Last night, as we drifted off to sleep on his futon, Rob and I heard a dramatic cracking sound. What the hell? I thought as the entire right half of the bed collapsed underneath us. We stumbled up to squint at the damage in the fresh lamplight.

"This has happened before," Rob mumbled sleepily and attempted to determine exactly what had gone awry on the futon's frame to cause the problem.

Slightly more awake, I noticed the true cause. There was nothing wrong with the futon other than the fact one of its legs had fallen through the parquet floor of Rob's apartment, though evidently not far enough to pierce the ceiling of the apartment below.

It was not the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me in that bed, but it may be the most unique.