RN: I bought mine at Macy’s, on a buy-one-get-one-free deal, so I have a backup waiting in the wings, in case my weighty, Frankenstein-like skull wears the first one out. I also was able to actually redeem one of those 20-percent-off coupons that Macy’s seems to drop into my snail-mail box on a daily basis, so it was practically free. It’s clearly the best purchase I’ve ever made at the Store Formerly Known as Dayton’s.
CP: My sister brings hers everywhere. I resisted for a long time, on account of they are a bit off the cool-design radar, non?
RN: They do broadcast a certain retirement-community vibe. Our friend Mark refuses to allow them to blight his carefully curated midcentury-modern residence.
CP: Perhaps what’s needed are some new national TV ads: “This is Pharrell Williams, and I’m always happier when I sleep on a firm, contoured surface.”
RN: I’m surprised they’re not more blatantly marketed as anti-snoring devices. Pre-memory foam pillow, I was peeling so much paint off the bedroom’s walls that I’m on a first-name basis with the sales staff at Hirshfield’s.
CP: Has this caused the spouse to let you get off that cot on the three-season porch and return to the heated bedroom? Hope so.
RN: It’s weird. Not only am I falling asleep faster, I’m also dozing deeply, and restfully. Better than I have in years. Can I really attribute this to a Martha Stewart-made product from the bed-and-bath department?
CP: Martha does have that special ability, with her soothing voice and her hair pulled back behind one ear, to ease one into deep repose.
RN: On the first night, I felt sure I was going to need an Ambien in order to adjust to the odd feeling of my neck and noggin resting on the equivalent of a pillowcase-covered brick.