As soon as I knew that I'd be asking The Boy for a separation, I went to IKEA and bought a cheap mattress for him to use in the spare bedroom. I wandered through the store til I found the beds on display, pinpointed the cheapest mattress they had, then lied down on it. I figured that I might use the mattress in the future for guests who might stay over. I also knew that The Boy would demand he get to take our brand-new bed with him when he left, so I needed to know how comfortable this temporary one would be. I lay back and sunk into a brief moment of self-pity as I thought about my life, my situation, and the end of my marriage. Then I looked up and saw this ever-so-helpful sign:
|"It's important to try out the mattress together."|
I went to the warehouse and found the mattress, eerily compressed and wrapped up into the shape of a giant eggroll. The IKEA website had said that the entire thing weighed a mere 23 pounds, which is less than my pug, so I figured I'd have no problem carrying it. Turns out the website was wrong. As I dragged this 60 pound springroll through the warehouse like a dead body wrapped up in a carpet, I sighed again. It's the little things, like not having a helper for heavy lifting, that can make you feel the most alone.
After I broke the news to The Boy, I spent a lot of time lying in my bed staring into nothingness. I would start off cleaning my room or getting dressed, then just find myself getting closer and closer to the sheets until my face was buried in them.
When The Boy finally moved out, I thought things would change, but for a while, all that changed was the comfort of my mattress--from big squishy one, to tiny pokey one. And I didn't even really care, until my back started freaking out. So, advice for those who are looking at mattresses: the $70 mattress at IKEA is exactly as good as a $70 mattress should be///suitable for corpses and people who thrive off the feeling of bare springs stabbing them in the back like skeleton fingers.
|On the mattress of shame.|
It didn't take long for me to go out and find a new bed. There was a major sale on at a local furniture store, and for the first time in many, many years, I chose a bed based solely on my own comfort. On the first morning I woke up in my new bed, I thought I'd accidentally rolled onto my pug because it was so squishy and soft.
It was harder to have pity parties in my bed after that. A new quilt meant my bed was very pretty and lifted my spirits, and having incredible sleeps meant I wasn't so miserable. So the horrid $70 'mattress of shame' was stuffed into the spare bedroom again, and there it can wait for some house guest I secretly want to get rid of.
SONG OF THE MOMENT : Lily Allen, 'Smile'