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For what the real ones cost, not cheap knock offs… I would only use theirs. Not doing so could void the warranty.Devices that collect all kinds of fitness and health metrics populated the halls of CES this year, but Sleep Number revealed one of the more intriguing options with its new x12 bed featuring the company's SleepIQ technology. In addition to providing as comfy a night's sleep as possible through a series of inflatable cushions and the company's Sleep Number system, the bed also keeps tabs on your slumber letting you know how restful an evening you had through an accompanying app. The x12 is yet another device requiring a constant connection to your home's Wi-Fi network, but that allows it to upload details about how you slept to your personal account on the company's website. And that data can then be accessed through a phone or tablet, with the specifics laid out in easy to understand graphs and pie charts. So there's no need to remember to sync via a Bluetooth connection, or connect your mobile devices to the bed with a USB cable.
The Sleep Number x12 could also be the first bed that comes with its own remote that recognizes speech commands. And that facilitates the one feature that couples are going to appreciate most. At the top of the bed the mattress actually splits in two allowing both sleepers to set a custom angle for sleeping, reading, or watching TV. And in the middle of the night if you happen to wake up to your bedmate snoring like a chainsaw, with a spoken command you can simply ask the x12 bed to activate its snore prevention feature which gently elevates your partners head, clearing their airways so they can breathe through their nose again. A good night's sleep doesn't come cheap, though. When the x12 is available starting in February of this year, the complete bed will run $8,000. But Sleep Number plans to add the SleepIQ technology to its cheaper offerings as well, so that even us common folk can avoid having to hit our bedmates with a pillow in the middle of the night. Four years ago, we bought a mattress.
We did as everyone suggests: we went to the store, camped out on it for a little while. The saleslady of course just hovered like a hummingbird, staring at us while we tried out the new bed. I don’t know if she thought were going to try to do the rumpy-pumpy or something, but she just stood there. Still, the test totally worked. It was the most comfortable bed on which I’d ever draped my torpid form. My wife and I both looked at each other and were like, “Yes. This is our new bed.” The bed was a Sealy latex mattress. A “Tranquil Sea” mattress. Which is a silly name, because the last thing I want to do is sleep on the ocean, tranquil or no. It has sharks and giant squid and Dagon’s babies hiding down in the watery dark. Sleeping on the ocean will not give me comfort, but that’s how these product names are. (We’re also shopping now for paint colors, and paint colors are named even more hilariously. We took the mattress home. But it wasn’t long before we noticed a slight… give to the material.
We were slowly sinking into the mattress. At first, that was kinda nice. “It fits me like a glove!” I said, laughing as I shimmied my body down into the warm embrace of our new bed. Eventually, however, those slight depressions turned into a pair of inescapable ditches. Which then turns the middle of the bed into a giant hill, like it’s some kind of Anglo-Saxon burial mound. (I’m fairly certain that Oswald killed Kennedy not from within a building but rather from the berm rising up from the center of our shitty mattress.) Of course, when you’re up off the mattress, the deep furrows are not so plain to see — and despite being only four years into a 10-year-warranty, we’re pretty much fucked because when the Mattress Bastards come to measure the depth of our uncomfortable rifts, they will discover that each trench is odd but not dramatically odd and so, sorry, fuck you, stick a mattress coil up your no-no-hole, please enjoy your latex slumber-condom, nerds. Point is, now we’re back to shopping for a new mattress.
Which, as you know if you’ve ever done it, is a descent into a realm of lies and madness. One mattress at one store — “This is our Endless Whisperer Pillow-Top model” — is actually different from the same-named mattress at another store. So it’s not like you can price compare on most of these, unless you want to buy a Tempurpedic, which are apparently wonderful but also cost as much as a used car. Plus, they ask you all those questions. “Are you a back sleeper? Do you have sciatica problems? Will you be having ‘the sex’ on this bed? Do you sleep eight hours? Do you like to be stung by bees while you sleep, or not stung by bees? Do you eat in bed? Have you ever killed a man? Can you help me dispose of this body?” Eventually, you answer all the questions and they direct you to what is the most expensive mattress in the store, some Astronaut Bed stuffed with the lavender-scented hair of orphaned children, and you tell them, “But I don’t want to pay $6700 for a new mattress,” and they’re like, “But there’s a 700,000-year warranty,” which sounds great until you realize that the warranty basically only covers incidents where the mattress turns into an actual monster from Hell and tries
(Our mattress has only turned into a metaphorical monster.) So they direct you to the cheapest mattress just to be a dick, and it’s basically a pallet of bricks draped in a musty tablecloth, and they’re like, “That’s called our ‘Spinal Shame’ model and it’s $300. It has a 17-minute warranty,” which again, who cares, because the warranties are dogshit. Then there’s all the upselling — pillows and frame and boxspring and dust ruffle and bondage saddle. Then you have to work on the price to get it down because of course the all-important mattress industry is like the car industry (because surely a mattress is as complex an object as an automobile!) and you’re suddenly haggling over price because this mattress has coils 2mm smaller than that other mattress and blah blah blah. Then maybe while you’re standing there you Google some reviews and half the reviews talk about how the mattress killed their mother and half of them say it’s the best thing since angel nipples and next thing you know, you’ve panicked and fled the store and continue to sleep on your own crapgasmic mattress until it dissolves beneath you and you buy a fucking sleeping bag because fuck it