I Didn’t Leave My Heart in Jerusalem But I Certainly Left My Pillow

I decided that if I had a blog about my life which people were (weren’t) getting moderate amusement out of, I might as well also do what I’m supposed to do and also write a web series for me and my friend Rob Malone about our downer/occasionally funny lives.

This was after my friend Jon saw the post featuring him and told me it was sometimes funny but mostly sad.

And after I saw “My Winnipeg”.

And after my mother tried to have a discussion with me about what exactly I was supposed to be doing 4 months from now or so when I am slated to (not) graduate.

Anyway, the theme of the show is similar to well, my life. The small picture for the big picture, obsessing over little things. Which reminded me I suppose of my trip to Israel.

I tried to get parents to buy me a TempurPedic mattress when I moved into my apartment. I figured it would be good for sleeping on  and make my apartment, well, officially… “rad”. But my mom had already gotten a mattress with the bed, a Sealy, and so I got a TempurPedic mattress pad and a pillow.

Later on, my father, inspired by how comfortable my bed was after we set up, bought a TempurPedic pillow of his own; a larger one for casual relaxation as well as scheduled sleeping. Eventually though, my father gave it up. The space-age/Swedish-made material was too much for his 50s/60s upbringing and he prefered down or decent, ordinary foam where he could get it, so he ceded the pillow to me.

Upon packing for my trip to Israel, I thought, wouldn’t it be smart to bring a pillow? And smarter still to bring my original sleep-designed TempurPedic pillow? Then there would be no awkward fights with the roommates on my youth tour for the one extra pillow and it would even give me some sort of support mechanism for the inevitable awkward Jewish sexile that might come on the trip.

It was decided: the pillow came.

Our first nights were spent in Jerusalem, perhaps the best part of the trip. I snuck out with my roommates to the Arab market where, with its cheap food and internet cafes teeming with CounterStrike-happy pre-teens, I felt more at home than anywhere else I went in Israel.

I wonder what those kids think when the announcer says “Terrorists Win” at the end of a game.

Anyway, when we left for the next hotel, I gathered my stuff, packed my dirty laundry into the side of my bag and got going, noting my abg was lighter than I thought. I looked at the bed and saw pillows and thought it normal.

It was not till the next hotel that I realized my folly– the pillow was gone.

Now that I’m back, I just use the pillows from my couch on my bed to prop myself up for reading and such that I once used my first TempurPedic pillow for. I wonder as to the pillows’ life in Jerusalem. Perhaps it was thrown-out, but I would like to think that perhaps rather someone took it home and got a better night of sleep for it, or perhaps that it is now a fixture in that shitty hotel room I stayed in and that a guest might now be treated, upon residence, to the TempurPedic experience.

To tell the truth, it’s not so different without it.

But still, I kinda miss it.

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