Megabed

 

Devil Bed

Bee and I have a nasty habit of accidentally spending enormous amounts of money when we mean to just buy something small and affordable.

This is how we ended up with an entire dining set when we had intended to just buy 1 chair for a growing Mr. C.

 Or how we now have a large (but admittedly gorgeous) paved and stained concrete driveway flowing into a patio when we were looking to just get some gravel for the area outside our front door.

Or, most-recently, how we became the proud owners of an entire 26-piece set of stainless-steel, American-made cookware when we meant to just buy a cheese grater.

I'm not quite sure how this happens, but about every 2 years our consumerist tendencies apparently need to be released, and we throw huge sums of money at things we kind of need . . . but could probably do without.

The first time this happened was about a decade ago, when I stopped into a store at the mall because I wanted to get one of those fancy pillows that form to your head.  I was at the height of my back pains, and there seemed to be only so much my chiropractor could do.  I was convinced this special neck pillow was going to solve all my problems.

I made the mistake, however, of inviting Bee along on this trip.  And the pillow store also had beds.  And our mattress (which was only a few years old) had developed an annoying dip in the center (not covered by the warranty, natch) . . . so we egged each other on and decided to just try a few of the beds.  

And, as fate would have it, some of the beds had those adjustable bases, so we could raise and lower our heads or feet and sleep in "Zero Gravity".  Oh, the dreams we might have whilst luxuriating on a mattress that positions our bodies into the ideal sleeping arrangement! 

Bee and I tried several mattresses, arranging the head and feet just so and finally picking out the one we both thought we could deal with.  The mattress itself was very firm (just what Bee wanted); it really was too firm for me, but -- since being cradled in Zero Gravity was more-important to me than the firmness of the mattress -- I knew I could deal with it.  My back pain was certain to be a thing of the past!

We brought the bed home, I raised the head slightly and the feet substantially, copying the position we'd used in the store . . . and it took all of three days for Bee to declare he couldn't possibly continue to sleep with his feet up so high. 

"What are you talking about?" I screeched.  "You wanted an adjustable bed!"

"I wanted the head to adjust so we could sit up to read," he said, "I never thought I could sleep with my feet up."

"Then why the &*$# did we try it that way in the store?" I spat.

"Trying it doesn't mean I wanted it full time," he reasoned.

So now I was the proud owner of an adjustable bed I wasn't allowed to adjust.  Worse-yet, the mattress felt like sleeping on the hard ground.  It didn't cradle my spine at all, and every morning I woke up with my joints burning and feeling like I'd been stretched backwards over one of those medieval torture racks all night.

I don't know what these statues are for, but they're on Amazon, so they must be legit

This led to several years of failed experiments with body pillows, thick mattress pads, foam wedges, and knee supports to try to make it so I could wake up with a modicum of painlessness each morning.  Those were dark, dark years.

Finally, about 4 Labor Days ago, I announced that I'd had enough: I was buying a new mattress during the annual bed sales, with or without Bee's blessing.  Bee wisely remained silent.

This meant that I needed to find a bed base that we could each adjust to our liking.  That way, I could have my legs as high up as I needed (oh, sweet back relief!) while Bee could remain below me (as is right and good).  However, all the queen-sized bases I looked at would, at the most, allow only the head to be split and adjusted separately on each side: the feet were always connected.  I event went so far as to contact a manufacturer about this, but they said queen beds were really too narrow to split at the feet.  I was out of luck.

I really didn't want a king-sized bed in our room: it just seemed much too opulent for simple folks such as us.  And it would take up so much space.  However, I grudgingly accepted that I was going to have to accept this as the only solution if I wanted to have a decent sleep for once.

The more I researched new bases and mattresses, the more concerned Bee became.  

"But I like our mattress," he worried.  "You'll want something softer, and then I won't be comfortable."

This was a conundrum.  If we were going to invest in a new sleep system, it should be one we both liked: not only in base position, but in mattress firmness.  And I knew, after years on Devil Bed, that I just didn't want to lie on something as hard as that, even if I could adjust the bed's base.  

This left only one option: two separate twin-sized bases, topped with two separate twin-sized mattresses.

"Even with the bases right next to each other, we're just one step away from sleeping in separate beds," I sighed to Bee.

"Oh, come on," he reasoned, "we're not that far apart."  He looked speculatively around our bedroom.  "Although," he mused, "maybe it would make more sense to push the beds to opposite sides on the wall so we have space to walk between them."

"No!" I screeched.  "I will not sleep in a 1950's sitcom."

So, as excited as I was to get my own, adjustable base, I was kind of grumpy when we actually went to pick up said bases from the kindly folks who'd listed them on Craigslist.  When they excitedly showed me the massage function that shook the entire base (and floor), I said, "Ugh!" really loudly and with complete disdain.  I like my teeth unrattled, thank you very much.

It is amazing how heavy those bases were.  It is even more amazing how long the perfume from their previous home lingered in our home.  But we lugged them up the stairs and into a spare room, then I began my search for new twin mattresses.

I spent hours at several different mattress stores.  I had the employees drag out several styles, set them up, then let me lie on each for 20 minutes at a time.  Then I'd switch to another mattress.  Then I'd bring a pillow.  Then I'd ask the employees to move my top choice mattress on top of one of their adjustable bases, and I'd try it out that way.

I took my time, because this time I was determined to get it right.

In the end, I got a good deal on an alarmingly-expensive mattress that was 14 inches deep.  That's right: over a foot of soft, pillowy comfort!  I dragged it home in the back of Bee's truck, scooched Devil Bed over, set up one of the new Craigslist bases, and heaved my new mattress on top.  Bee eyed it skeptically.

"14 inches?  You're up really high now; I'll need climbing gear to get over to you to cuddle."

This, of course, would never do: I loved falling asleep with at least our feet touching.  Bee is the Human Heater, whilst I am the Ice Queen: I need him to keep me warm.

"Well, once you get a new mattress, we'll see if we need to put one of the bases on blocks to even it out," I reasoned.  

Yes, the 2 twin mattresses put us farther apart than our old queen did, but we would still be able to cross the divide to reach each other.

Except . . . 

Except I love having my feet raised as high as the base allows, and I don't want to mess with the settings in the middle of the night to lower them long-enough to take advantage of Bee's body heat.

And my lovely, pillowy mattress sucks me in and keeps me from easily rolling towards him, anyway.

And Bee never did find another mattress he liked better than the one on Devil Bed.  "Maybe I'll just cut this mattress down so it'll fit on the twin base," he mused.  But he -- understandably -- didn't want to risk ruining it, so he never did.

Which means . . . 

 . . . we are now the proud owners of Megabed.

Covered in an old, navy blue comforter and little else, you'll find Bee's queen-sized Devil Bed on an adjustable base that never gets adjusted.  

Covered in a new heavy comforter with white (yes, I get to have white!) textured cover and swathed in light blue silky sheets is my twin XL-sized Princess Bed, complete with 14-inch mattress and adjustable base that is always adjusted.  Not only is it always adjusted, but I often make use of that irritating massage feature: what I once found teeth-rattling, I now find soothing . . . on stressful nights, I use it to rock myself to sleep.  Mr. C feels it rattle his bed from across the hall, so I can only employ it if he's not yet asleep.

Yes, we had to rearrange our room in order to fit Megabed.

Yes, we had to chop down the legs of Princess Bed so it would be at the same height as Devil Bed.

Yes, that doesn't matter, anyway, as Princess Bed lives in a perpetual "U" shape and is never lined up with Devil Bed.

Yes, we must make appointments to visit each other now that Megabed is in our lives . . .

But my back doesn't hurt as much.  And I sleep more-soundly.  And Bee can listen to the radio on his side of the bed and it no longer keeps me up on my side.  And we can toss and turn with less fear of waking each other.

Now that I have my Princess Bed, with my comfy sheets and my girly cover and my body pillow and my legs and torso adjusted just so, I got a sparkly chandelier sconce for next to my bed, plus a crisp white bedside table that I top with candles and where I put the chocolate I don't want to share (read: "where I put the chocolate," full stop).  

With my legs up so high and my heavy comforter, I was having some issues with pressure pulling down on my feet, so I recently had Bee make me a "tent" to keep the comforter above them:

drum base -- cut in half -- that lives under the covers

Now my feet can rest comfortably under the tent.

The only problem with my final set up is that Princess Bed, which I refuse to move from its preferred position, is now 46" high.  

The Princess And The Pea

Yes, nearly four feet of glorious comfort, which I can now use only for sleeping: I need to borrow Devil Bed if I must sit to put on socks, or if I want to rest for a second while looking at the phone.  For Princess Bed is a commitment: you don't sit on her unless you're planning to stay awhile.

For someone who didn't want a bed larger than a queen and who claimed to be uncomfortable sleeping without touching her husband, I certainly fell in love with Megabed quickly.  

Well, I fell in love with Princess Bed, and -- since I hate Devil Bed -- I must put up with Megabed.  Megabed is a necessary sacrifice that is a part of our married life.  And I, being such a giving wife, must simply allow for that.