Sometimes a bed just isn't good enough. That's why, on the eighth day, God invented the hammock: the Cadillac of outdoor comfort.
As long as the temperature stays above 40 degrees, that's my view when I wake up most mornings.
My zero-degree sleeping bag keeps me warm and toasty, while our trusty maple trees happily bear my drowsy weight between them.
And what about precipitation? I'm glad you asked! What's more conducive to good sleep than the rhythmic patter of the rain on a tin roof? Or, in this case, a simple tarp?
I may loathe the Black Eyed Peas, but I have to agree with Fergie. "[Beds] are so two thousand and late!"