At Long Last, A Real Bed

Now, it's not that I haven't had any bed, or even a real bed for most of my life. It's just that I made a temporary plan when we remodeled to move my dad in. He got my room, with my bed. It's a wonderful full size bed with super-firm mattress to avoid back problems and a modern brass headboard. Small room, small-ish but adequate bed.

Since I left that for the larger 4th bedroom last July, I've been sleeping on a compilation. The bottom is a double-height airbed, picked up cheaply at an auction, of course. I tried a regular airbed on top of that to get the right height off the floor, but it was so soft I sank way in and had to lift myself out of it just to roll over at night. Not too conducive to a good rest. Plus, it sucked all the heat right out of me. So that top air mattress got replaced with the mattress from my parents' bed, fairly soft but a major improvement. Sheets fit better, it supported me better, and it insulated me rather than sucking out the heat. If it was that miserable in July, how would it be come winter?

Of course, it was still over a double-height air bed, so you couldn't actually sit on the edge of the bed to, say, put on your socks. The air mattress would severely deform. leaving your end so low you'd be sitting on your ankles, while the other end would rise in the air, incidentally messing up all the sheets and blankets you'd worked to tuck in. It also travels, sideways, just like the way a rug on a carpet creeps. Every week or so I'd have to go to the other side of the bed, grab the handles through the bedding, brace the air mattress with my feet and pull the real mattress back into place. If you think that's easy or fun, I invite you to try it. And you still get to retuck the bedding after you finish. However, I was just too cheap to buy a bed I'd have to turn around and get rid of once I moved back into my old bedroom and Steve moved into the new one.

I just figured it was all so temporary. How long could my dad actually last, anyway? Here he was, a new widower, age 95, congestive heart failure, plus plus plus. His longest-lived sibling made it to 97, and he was now close on her heels, age-wise. I wasn't wishing him to go fast, just figuring the likely odds. Temporary began to stretch out. And out. Eventually I decided I needed a better plan.

At the same time, my boyfriend wound up with an unneeded box spring after he got his (queen size) storage bed frame in his apartment. With the box spring, it's so high he keeps a step stool next to the bed. He investigated dumping his box spring, but found the cost was more than he was willing to pay. He also found my bed a little insecure for.... well, use your imagination.

We decided that next time a queen size frame came up at auction, I'd buy it. It did today. ($5. Hard to beat. Nice enough wood headboard.) Friends hauled it home for me. Tomorrow they head up to Steve's and fetch his box spring. We deflate the airbed and store it for company, assemble the "new" bed, and I have a real bed to sleep on. Or sit on. Or....

Of course, now when I throw the dog's ball in my room, if it rolls under the bed, it's my own fault that I have to dig the ball out. Hmmm, maybe a long broom handle...?