A follow up to the Air Mattress Rebellion of 2026, in which I report that the situation has not improved, Nugget has found creative solutions, and I may need to see a chiropractor.

I owe you an update. After the Air Mattress Rebellion of 2026 — in which Nugget deflated our only piece of soft furniture with 15 minutes left in the Denver Nuggets game and stood next to the evidence looking extremely innocent — I told you I was getting a bed. That day. It was happening.

Reader, we did not get the bed.

Here is what actually happened. I got to the office. There were things to do. There were conversations to have. There was work happening and time passing and the specific kind of productive momentum that makes you completely lose track of what hour it is until suddenly it is very much not the hour you thought it was and the bed situation has once again not been addressed.

I am a person who procrastinates. I have made my peace with this. Nugget has not.

The Current Sleeping Arrangement

Since I cannot in good conscience call what we have a bed, let me describe the situation accurately. We have the deflated air mattress on the floor — flat, sad, a shadow of its former self, still somehow taking up space. On top of that we have a mat. And I want to be specific about this mat because gym mat implies a level of thickness and cushioning that would be genuinely generous. This is not a gym mat. This is the kind of mat you remember from kindergarten — red and blue, about half an inch thick, the ones they rolled out for nap time when you were five years old and weighed forty pounds and had zero opinions about lumbar support. That mat. That is what we are working with. On a hard floor. Under two of us.

It barely fits one person. This detail is important.

It barely fits one person, and there are two of us.

Nugget has assessed this situation and arrived at a solution that I will admit is creative even if it is not comfortable. Rather than pushing me off the mat — which is what I expected and frankly what I deserved — he has simply decided to use me as the mattress. Not next to me. Not partially on me. On me. Approximately seventy percent of his body laid directly across mine, settled in with the comfort and confidence of someone who has found the perfect sleeping surface and has no intention of moving.

I spent a meaningful portion of the weekend in my office chair. Not by choice. By necessity. Because the chair was the only place in the building where I was not actively being slept on by an 80-pound pit bull who had decided that the bed situation was my problem to solve and in the meantime he was going to make do with available resources.

The available resource was me.

The Food Situation — A Silver Lining

I will say this. I fed him well this weekend. Really well. Home cooked, fork served, the full production — because I am aware that I owe him something for the sleeping situation and also because when Nugget eats well he is slightly more forgiving about everything else. He is not completely over the air mattress situation. But he is not as actively furious about it as he was on Thursday night. The food helped. It always helps.

He is currently operating at what I'd describe as disappointed but not unreasonable. Which for Nugget is practically cheerful.

The Part Where I Admit I Am Not 20 Anymore

Here is something I did not fully account for when I decided the air mattress situation could wait: I am not 20 anymore. And I am also still not fully recovered from a car accident that did a number on my neck, shoulders, and back in ways I am reminded of regularly. Sleeping on a half-inch thick kindergarten mat on a hard floor with a large dog using me as a supplemental mattress is not something my body is handling quietly. I wake up with opinions from my back. My neck files daily reports. My shoulders are at this point submitting formal documentation.

The bed is no longer just a comfort issue. It has become a medical priority — one that I am apparently still not prioritizing enough to actually go get the bed, which tells you something about my relationship with procrastination that I will not examine too closely right now.

I am genuinely fine. But I am also genuinely considering that a chiropractor and a massage therapist are going to be part of the aftermath of this whole adventure and I'd rather just get the bed. Maybe tomorrow.

So. Tomorrow, Maybe.

The bed is still happening. This is still a plan. The timeline has become somewhat fluid but the intention remains completely solid. Nugget has made his position clear and I have heard him loudly, mostly because he is physically on top of me when he makes it.

We will get the bed. We will report back when we do. And when we do, I will let Nugget pick his side first because we both know that's how this works anyway and there's no point pretending otherwise.