For reasons still unknown to me, I spent a good chunk of my childhood using my living room floor as my bed. It's not that I was neglected and bedless. I had a perfectly fine bunkbed in my own room. I guess the nightly ritual of watching television until passing out was more desirable then the ergonomic advantages of an actual mattress. This has no scientific evidence to support it, but I believe the fact that I spent all this time on the floor has allowed me to relax in positions that when seen by others, provide for instantaneous cringing and cramping. However, after a family road trip to Green Bay and realizing the comfort available through a regular bed, I remember the moment it hit me. I was lying in the motel bed and just blurted out, "I'm not sleeping on the floor anymore" as if this declaration was groundbreaking to everyone else. Regardless, I remember the moment of truth as I freed myself from the shackles of floor-sleeping and picked my blankets and pillow up from the living room floor, carried them courageously to the bedroom, and threw them to the top bunk. never to lay flat again.