There is currently a mattress in my kitchen.
When we moved into the house, Kelly and I discovered that a mattress had been left behind because it was considered something we could use. Kelly had brought her own mattress and I realized before I even looked at the mattress that it was probably several inches too short for me.
Tall problems, guys.
So I decided to bring in my own mattress, an extra-long twin, one that might actually keep my feet from hanging off the end of the bed. This meant getting rid of the other mattress, which has proved more difficult that you’d think.
First, there are very few places in town that accept mattresses, either as donations or otherwise. Second, those that do take these mattresses only accept them on certain days during certain times. Third, every day that I could actually take them in, either a) it had rained and soggy mattresses are not good donations or b) I haven’t had access to a truck or any kind of vehicle large enough to transport two mattresses.
So Kelly and I have started calling the mattresses our island. They’re like the extra counter space we don’t actually really need. We’ve put our tea boxes up there and occasionally lean against them (carefully, of course; we have boxes on either side of the mattresses to keep them standing upright, but the floor is, well, crooked) when talking to each other.
They do, however, take up quite a lot of room. Our house is going to look like it’s doubled in size when we move those things out. Our kitchen is a bit inconvenient to access when you have to walk around a mattress to get anywhere.
Honestly, though, I’m about used to them. This is probably not a good thing, but then again it’s not really a bad thing. It’s kind of nice, being okay with two giant mattresses taking up a ton of room in the middle of my house. It’s better than being severely irritated by them, I suppose. I have gotten to the point where I have become familiar with the way the floor (which is crooked, as I mentioned before) slants around the mattresses. I know where to walk around the mattresses without tripping and falling on my face. I’m pretty sure that when the mattresses get moved, there will be plenty of tripping around the newly discovered floor slanting. Kelly and I are clumsy enough without the help of slanted flooring.
I mean, for crying out loud, last night I tripped backwards and knocked over a shelf. That takes skill, I want you to know. I actually did it after Kelly was awake and I could hear the clattering through my sound-cancelling headphones and my music. I was super embarrassed and held my breath for a good minute to make sure I hadn’t woken Kelly up.
Thank goodness, no harm no foul.
Honestly, it’s really surprising one of us hasn’t tripped over the mattresses and put a hole in the floor (adding to the slantedness) or the wall (there are also already plenty of those). I’m surprised that, with the mattresses and the floor and everything, we’re both still whole, no-broken-bones, normally-functioning and intact humans.
It’s kind of sad that this surprises me, but I think Kelly would agree with me.
It’s a miracle I’m still alive.
23 years of clumsiness to the degree I have executed makes it a miracle I even saw my 23rd birthday.
We seriously need to do something about those mattress so we’ll both live to see 24…