Thursday, April 10, 2008

Not My Bed

I slept on the same twin mattress from as long as I can remember until I moved out of my parents’ house when I was 18. I was not permitted to take my bed with me when I moved out (a story for another time), so I had to purchase a new bed. I bought a full mattress set and I have slept on that bed for the last ten years. Over the last ten years, that mattress has gone through a marriage, a child, and a child jumping on it. It was pretty beat. But it was comfortable and I liked it. It was broken and lumpy, but it was mine and I slept really well on it.

The Man’s parents are moving. They gave us a nice bedroom set (real wood, not veneer), including a basically brand new mattress set. All of the furniture matches, something I haven’t had since I had my white furniture set when I was little living at home. It was very nice of them to give it to us, and I am grateful. We sold my bed at the garage sale.

This new bed is not my bed. My body is rejecting it, like it would reject a kidney or bad sushi. I don’t sleep well on it, and although we simultaneously received some bad news that could potentially affect my sleep patterns, I’m pretty sure it’s the bed. It’s too hard, which is probably good for support, but my bones and muscles are not used to it, and I wake up sore and tired every day.

I want my old bed back; my lumpy, broken mattress that was mine for ten years. I’m too old to make this kind of adjustment. I’m tempted to let The Boy jump on the new bed (which was a new rule we made – no jumping on the new bed), just to break it in a little.

Because this is not my bed.