Yesterday, I went by Mr. Mattress to shop for a new bed. I don't make up the store's name, folks, I just shop there. Specifically, I was looking for a new soft-side waterbed. We had a whirlwind tour of about eight different mattresses all with varying layers and pads and of course I picked the most expensive one there. He'll be installing it in two weeks.While I was there, the phone rang. Mr. Mattress started talking to this guy and eventually pawned him off on his wife to get the help he needed. Apparently he needed to know how to fill the tubes in his waterbed. After a few minutes his wife called back and asked how many tubes are typical in a double bed mattress. Mr. Mattress said usually eight or ten. She said he had six. Hmm. Okay, whatever. She continued talking to the guy on the phone while I flopped on all the mattresses desperately trying to not flash Mr. Mattress in my short skirt. Mrs. Mattress came back after hanging up and said that he had cut a giant hole in his standard mattress and was trying to convert it to a waterbed by stuffing tubes in it. He could only fit six in the mattress. Mr. Mattress' only comment was, “well, he did say he was from South Carolina.” Now just to find a headboard for this new mattress so I won't ever have to move this monster ever ever ever again. Mmm, two inches of Swedish foam and a cashmere cover. I can't wait.