THIS JUST IN: Sleep is good

I haven't been sleeping well for about a week and it's left me distracted and cranky. No, let me rephrase: it's left me more distracted and crankier. I have been doing upgrades around my home and, as always, I hate the disruptions. There are those who are Happy Homemakers, and then there's me.

It started 8 days ago. That's when the junk removal team stopped by. They hauled away an expired fire extinguisher, a three-drawer cabinet designed to hold VHS tapes, an old carpet cleaner, a piece of gym equipment I should no longer use because of my knees (and I seldom used anyway) and my 50-lb., completely non-functioning 19" TV.*

Most of all, there was my bed frame (including headboard and footboard), mattress and box spring. The bed itself was broken and held together with wood glue, c-clamps and prayer. The mattress and box spring were still OK, but they were almost exactly a decade old and since the mattress was memory foam, I know it was on borrowed time. As resistant as I am to adding anything to the landfill before it's time (as evidenced by the TV), it just made sense to replace the mattress when I replaced the bed.

The air quality was very bad that day so I tipped the two-man junk crew $15 each and sent them on their way with a liter of water and two cups.  

So last Thursday night I slept on the couch. It felt foreign and impermanent. I didn't have much room to move and my living room was filled with boxes of STUFF ... items from under the bed, items I moved out of the bedroom to give tomorrow's delivery team room to assemble the new bed.

Friday morning I vacuumed and vacuumed where the bed had been and wiped down the baseboards. I was ready for my new bed! As I waited for its delivery, I hung a new shower curtain and laid a new bath mat. I could just see myself getting up on Saturday from my new bed and blissfully padding into my bathroom with its (ever-so slight) new look.

To say it didn't turn out that way is an understatement.  

The gentlemen who delivered and assembled my new bed worked fast and the bed – complete with headboard, footboard and new mattress – looked great. Again, the air quality was bad and the heat was daunting as they carried these heavy items from their parking space half-a-block away. I tipped this two-man crew $25 each and sent them on their way with a liter of water and two cups.  

Then I made the bed with freshly laundered mattress pad, pillow protectors, and sheets. It's hard to explain this – I don't speak fluent furniture – but the loop that attached the tarp that covered the foundation popped off the frame near the headboard. The mattress dipped noticeably in that spot and my pillows slid between the mattress and the headboard! Sleep was impossible.

I stripped the mattress and tried to figure out what to do. As I ruminated, Roy Hobbs decided that the workmen with their deep voices and strange smells and this large, foreign thing they left behind had to be dealt with. So he peed on the new mattress. I understand that it is a not unusual feline way of dealing with fear and disruption, but that doesn't mean I was happy about spraying and blotting and spraying and blotting a new mattress I'd never even slept on so it wouldn't forever smell like cat piss.

That slight fabric loop seemed like such a tiny thing that I thought I could fix it myself with wood glue. I stuck the tarp to the frame in that spot myself and gave it 24 hours to cure. That meant Night #2 on the sofa. 

Saturday afternoon I hauled the mattress back onto the frame and remade it. Before I could rest my head on my pillows, the tarp loosened again and I was right back where I started from – unable to sleep on my new bed. I called the store. The assistant manager, while nice, was obviously flustered and had no idea what to do. Since the store is closed on Sundays – it's a local mom-and-pop – he promised me a call from the owner on Monday morning and said that, no matter what, I'd soon be able to sleep in my new bed at no additional cost.

OK, so that's Nights #3 and #4 on the sofa. 

Sure enough, the owner called me on Monday morning. He reviewed the photos of the bedframe and tarp I emailed over and he seemed annoyed. Not at me – he was very gracious – but he seemed to know exactly what was wrong with the bed and was unhappy. He wouldn't tip his hand, but he promised me that first thing Wednesday morning when his delivery team came in, they would head over to my place to fix this because my satisfaction is their top priority.

This is when I started regretting NOT going with a major retailer. I appreciate that an independent neighborhood business that's been in the same small spot for 35 years likely operates on narrow margins and can't afford to have workmen on their truck 7 days/week. That's just reality.

It's also reality that I'd be spending Nights #5 and #6 on the sofa. 

Wednesday morning arrived and so did the same crew. They came to my door with a drill and a rod. Yes, when assembling the bed they left off one of the parts!

They slid the rod into a pocket on the tarp, fastened it good and tight, and replaced the mattress. Before they left, I got on the bed and placed my head on my pillows and it was fine. Finally!

As the guys were leaving, I thanked them but said, "Let's never do this again, OK?" They laughed and, to their credit, hurried out in such a way as to make tipping impossible. Not that I would have – I spent $50 for service I didn't get – but I appreciate the tacit understanding that no more cash would change hands.

So I've been two nights in my new bed and it's fine. It feels a little different – a little creakier – than my old bed but that's because I'm back to a coil mattress and no box spring. On the other hand, I like the new bed's sleek look and with no box spring, the bed is still elevated but not high, like my last bed was. When I say "I'm climbing into bed," I want it to merely be a turn of phrase, not a statement of fact.

But this saga illustrates why I am not enthusiastic about getting a new refrigerator or replacing the towel racks in my bathroom. These projects just don't go well for me.

*One of my neighbors, unaware that the crap being loaded onto the junk van was mine, asked me if I saw that ancient TV out front. He was startled, as though he had stumbled upon the carcass of a T-Rex. It looked not unlike this. Because I was watching it daily in my bedroom as recently as a few months ago, I didn't realize what a freak it was.