Have you been waking up to a gnawing feeling of despair in the pit of your stomach recently? A feeling that says something like, "Oh no! The economy! Oh no! Christmas! Oh no! Christmas and the economy!" Either Mr. Bill is living in your stomach or you've come to the same conclusion that most Americans have: Dudes, we are so screwed. People are so desperate to "save" money that they are shooting each other in Toys R Us and trampling underpaid Wal-Mart workers in the store. Is there any deal so great that it could possibly allay your growing suspicion that the Econolypse is nigh? Is there any bargain so stellar that it will magically balance your checkbook and make you think, "Wheeeeeee! I can't wait to get out of bed this morning!" No there is not. So, just stay in bed. Pull the covers over your head. Retreat into your own private pod. In the interest of your fragile mental health, I am hereby presenting some inspiration that will allow you to shut out annoying reality and focus on hypo sensory blissdom. If it helps, you can turn up the Kenny G and start drinking from that flask of booze you have hidden under the mattress. I won't tell.
Of course it might also help if your bed was shaped like a hibernation chamber, had synchronized LED lights and a built in stereo system, like the Transport Bed designed by Alberto Frias.
Ooooh look! It comes in kicky colors and you can even haul it out to the middle of the desert so you can finally get some peace and quiet, because the desert is so damn LOUD, you know. At $10,000 clams you might just want to pull your own covers up a little higher. Then ask a family member to use a flashlight and send you a synchronized sensory morse code signal that says, "Chillax. This isn't really happening."
You could always ask your workplace to install a personal Energy Pod by Metronaps in your office. A little shield protects you from the world for 20 whole minutes so you can powernap your way to increased productivity!
Wait -- Do I spy AIG executives? Hey corporate douches, am I paying you $700 billion in tax money to sleep on the job???! I hope that Pacman chews his legs off. Or maybe instead of waking him after 20 minutes of napping, the Energy Pod 2000 will turn his life support system off.
Happy place! Happy place! At $150, this little cat pod available via Generate Design is almost affordable. Of course, my half feral feline friend would scratch my face off if I tried to put her in it. How about for a baby...?
Let's face it: in order to transcend your fears, you may need to subject yourself to contemplation of the worst case scenario. This avatar of death should help take you there.
Awww... but the giant Sensory Deprivation Skull by Atelier Van Lieshout is so cute and cuddly on the inside! Golly, you just can't judge a pod by its cover, can you?
Raina of the fabulous If the Lampshade Fits alerted me to this little gem. After facing your deepest darkest fears in the cold grip of The Skull, you may need a little fortification. Mosey on over to the space pod bar designed by Zaha Hadid at the swanky Home House in London for a little R and R. Maybe you'll see that astronaut who lost a $100,000 tool bag crying his eyes out on a stool next to you. Misery loves company, right?
You and a friend can be miserable together at this home featured in Elle Decor UK. While the home itself is very open and spacious, it features some isolation stations for those times when you need Calgon to take you away.
There's nothing like the movies to indulge your escapist fantasies. Settle into these giant foam coozies inset into the wall and face the music.
You could always kick it old school and float up, up and away in your beautiful magic bubble, far from the common clutches of the filthy plebian masses.
I'm not gonna lie. These vintage (as in BEFORE Photoshop) fashion photographs by Melvin Sokolsky are dope. Glenda the Good Witch of the North ain't got nothing on this shizz. I have a new fantasy. (via Vintage & Chic, a super Spanish blog).
Some more happy times and simple pleasures via Jeff Andrews Design. But turn down the Kenny G for a sec and let's get real: there may be altogether too much contact with the world here. It's not safe. Noise! Germs! Advertising!!! For the love of all that is holy, we must forage for total encapsulation. A place where the taxman can't find you, a media-free outlaw station where we can go rogue. It must be miles from the siren song of cost prohibitive gifts and scintillating wrapping paper, leagues from Barbies and Transformers and iPods, oh my!
These crazy tree spheres set waaaaay out in the boonies might do the trick. Except -- and it's a big one -- that there rectangle in the bottom left corner is an outhouse. I don't know about you, but that's not going to work for me. Ok, that and the fact that it costs $125,000 to buy a sphere and live on planet Endor with the Ewoks. Gosh, those little guys are cute, though. The Ewoks, I mean.
No, I think I've got another solution. One gleaned from nature, and also from experience gained while engineering forts in my youth.
It's a sweet homemade nesting pod, and I bet you could build one from recycled plastic bags and Tyvek. Anchor it with a couple of chains and, whammo! You're off the grid! Screw that Visa bill and who needs a car, anyway? Oh, but I will be needing my iPod (you don't expect me to sit out there in silence, do you?), and a few changes of clothes because the outdoors are gamey, also I'd like my Pantene, because clean hair = humanity. I might get hungry... could you bring me some snacks? I especially like Rice Krispies treats.
Oh hell. If I have to pack a suitcase just to live in a plastic nest for overgrown birds, then I'm going back to bed.