I know you’re supposed to replace a mattress every eight or 10 or 15 years. But for the first eight, 10, 15 years and even longer, the mattress was just fine. So fine that we didn’t think about it, though every so often the idea would flit through my brain, only to be dismissed by concerns that, with my history of back trouble, a new unknown mattress wouldn’t be as good as the old one. And that our sheets wouldn’t fit the new, thicker mattresses. Last year the mattress started poking us, as if to say, “Hey, remember me?” and we knew then that we had run of out time. But family emergencies and too many trips away from home meant that we weren’t getting to the nearest mattress venue — the Sears store in the little city an hour or so away — any time soon.
We finally got there the other weekend, while the kids were curling in a bonspiel. It was an awfully long afternoon, though the choosing would have been much faster if we had been told at the beginning of the mattress testing process rather than at the end that one of our choices had been discontinued by the manufacturer, harumph. I made a point of avoiding the euro- and pillow-tops and focusing on the “slimmer” mattresses. After about an hour, we left, having paid for our new mattress and boxspring and arranged for delivery. Since we live in the country, the mattress set would be shipped to our local Sears pickup depot, from where we’d collect it in the truck and bring it home. Which Tom did at lunchtime today. Which meant that about 10 minutes later, we were all standing around our lovely Henredon mahogany sleigh bed, staring UP at the mattress and boxpring that looked like something from the story of the princess and the pea. It was all just so very high, so very tall, so much closer to the ceiling. Too high, too tall, and quite odd. Sitting in bed, my head is well above the top of the table lamp on the nightstand, and when I sit on the bed, my feet no longer touch the floor but dangle in the air about 12 inches off the ground. I think I’ve figured out that what we need is a “low profile” boxspring, so we’ll have to order a new new one and return the old new one. It’s either that or a set of Victorian bed steps and a good memory from my perch in the middle of the night when I’m half asleep and in need of a glass of water. With any luck, our only difficulty will be exchanging the bedspring, and the mattress itself will be suitable. We have 60 days to find out, with Sears’ return policy.
We still do much our reading aloud in this bed, and when the kids were little they would pretend we were on an island. This is truly an island now, and I fear for books, the television remote, and especially my laptop should they happen to fall from on high. In the meantime, now that I can reach the ceiling fixture by standing up on the mattress, I may as well take advantage of the situation and change the lightbulbs.
UPDATED to add: The kids measured the old mattress/boxspring set and the new one, and the difference is 10 inches. Yikes.
PS Oh joy, more snow on the way. Four inches. Gah.
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