Rest Easy

I sleep on a 30 year old twin mattress with one, sometimes two, children. It's cozy. We put the function in dysfunctional. But, with the new house, we're trying a new bedtime routine. So, we found ourselves mattress shopping on this fine Memorial Day. Because we're from Oklahoma, our first stop was of course, Mathis Brothers Furniture (I challenge you to say it, not sing it.).

Bargain shopping is my game. I wait eagerly for garage sale season, and even RJ knows that garage sales are awesome. We scored the best Lego set ever for 7 dollars last summer. I'm not opposed to used furniture. I just bought what some may consider the world's ugliest sofa--until they sit on it. It's gold. It's leather (aged Italian leather they tell me). And it's awesome. It is the ugly girl with the terrific personality. It has a friend--the recliner. The recliner is awesome too. I'm working on it with saddle soap. I have faith that by the time RJ is driving, the recliner and sofa will be softer than soft and cleaner than clean. For now, they're the comfiest pieces of furniture we own, and I think I'm going to have to challenge the husband to a duel over the recliner (he has his own). That's saying something since his first comment about it was, "I'm pretty sure someone died in that chair." (No one died in that chair. It's just ugly. Or awesome.). 

I am not offended by used furniture. But, mattresses, it turns out, are a different story. 

Enter the sales pitch: 

Salesman: "We have an exchange program here. Keep it for up to a year. Exchange it two times. No questions asked." 

Me: "That sounds great!"

Salesman: "Now these mattresses are part of that program." 

Me: "That sounds great! These are great prices!"

Salesman: "You can see here on the label from the health department where they've been fumigated." 

Me: "That sounds great! No, wait. Fumigated? Oh my holy cow. You have got to be kidding me." 

And off we went to Bob Mills. He is, after all, the working man's friend. (Okay, so now he's your home's best friend, but I remember the days when he was the working man's friend. And anyone who can rock a purple tie like Bob is my friend.). 

(Disclaimer: Mathis Brothers does sell new mattresses--I was in the hurt furniture room--bargain hunting). 

Bob Mills has a sleep spa (ahh). I didn't know this meant that the husband and I would find ourselves behind a screen resting flat on our backs while a computer analyzed our spine compression ratios, and RJ peered over the end of the bed. "How do you sleep," asked the doctor (he's actually a chiropractor--so they tell us.). "Do you see the four year old peering over the end of the bed?" "That's pretty standard for us." 

The sleep spa is kind of awesome. And nothing had been fumigated. They even gave us our own traveling tissue for our heads in case we wanted to try out some more mattresses. GiGi got cranky. And RJ needed to potty. We severely underestimated the amount of time a sleep analysis would take. We are still without a mattress. 

Tonight, I will sleep in a twin bed with at least one child. Maybe two. But, I will rest easy knowing that my mattress has not been fumigated. (Though maybe the recliner should be).