The Sleep Comfort Adventure

 

       

My beautiful, talented, supernaturally perceptive lady-liege and I went mattress shopping this morning over in Jantzen Beach, the big-box store capital of the universe. We spent a considerable amount of time in Bed World and Mattress Mart. Or was it Mattress World and Bed Mart? I disremember.      

         

Carolyn was adamant that we needed new mattresses. She told one of the salesmen that I kamikaze onto mine from a great altitude, splashing down on it and creating a thunderous sound that can be heard by our neighbors a block away. This, she claims has caused my mattress to sag considerably. This may well be. The fact that I hadn’t noticed and sleep just fine on it doesn’t seem to be a part of the equation. I credit her for not using the word “oaf” at any point in her narrative.

Like everything else, mattress shopping has gotten very high tech. At one place (either World or Mart, I disremember) they have you lie down on a mattress hooked to a space-age looking device. It creates a cartoonish green mock-up of your body, which shows the salesman what you need in the way of firmness, lumbar support, leg room and muscle adjustment. It’s possible it also indicates nutritional deficiencies and need for personal counseling. Again, I disremember. ( Disrememberization, by the way is a handy device for avoiding marital disputes, ignoring medical advice and chore avoidance.)

I’m convinced the mattress technology also provides the salesperson the talking points to sell the customer up into the $3000 super-deluxe hyper-double-frammis, air-cooled, internet-ready dual-exhaust model from the basic $200 “flat place to sleep” model he or she came into the store to buy.

 Next, Carolyn insisted we lie down on a number of mattresses to see how comfortable they are. Very honestly, I couldn’t tell one from another. Keep in mind that if I went out drinking during my college days, my roommates would ferry me home and stand me up in the corner. 8-16 hours later I would awaken, fully refreshed.

She had exchanges with the sales guy using terms like “too soft,” “the memory foam feels like I’m sinking in quicksand” and “firm but with a nice bouquet and a hint of elderberries.” My feedback was pretty much limited to “oof” and “pretty nice flat place to lie down.” (On this one, my wife and I exchanged marital eye-rolls. Mine was far superior, making a ka-ching sound on the upper end.)

In the end, we bought two twin mattresses. They weren’t as expensive as I thought they might be and delivery, setup and disposal of the old mattresses was included in the price. (I’m not sure how challenging set-up will be, amounting to setting the mattress on the wooden bed frame).

It was explained to us that they donate the old mattresses to charity, which I think is a worthwhile thing. Carolyn wonders where they’ll find a recipient for mine, muttering something about she hoped some poor schlep doesn’t mind crashing on a U-shaped mattress. Hey, not everyone requires a flat place to sleep.

Ultimately, I think the mattress shopping excursion was a positive experience. I learned some important science involving lumbar support and reclining body imaging. Shopping together made our long-lasting marriage even more fulfilling. And the series of eye-roll exchanges strengthened the muscles of our foreheads and upper cheeks. 

I was so inspired by the process, I’m exploring the concept of opening my own big-box sleep comfort outlet. The sign out front will read “FLAT PLACE TO SLEEP MART.” (or possibly “FLAT PLACE TO SLEEP WORLD.”)