The Pea

I took my son to see "Once Upon a Mattress" when we were in NYC several years ago (it was a quick decision at the Tickets! Tickets! kiosk in the middle of Times Square, okay?). Based on the Anderson's fairy tale "The Princess and the Pea" it starred Sarah Jessica Parker pre "Sex in the City" days. I remember watching her toss and turn, and, yes, burst into song because she just COULD NOT get comfortable. That little pea at the bottom of her mattress was making her miserable. I am NOT bursting into song but I am miserable when it comes to choosing mattresses.

We slept in the bed we just abandoned in the Midwest for nine years. It felt great in the mattress store, perfect in fact. Not too firm, not too soft, roomy and king sized. Memory foam was just coming into vogue and it sounded like the best thing since, well, straw filled mattresses. Oh, this mattress had a memory all right. When it was delivered it came with a pre-memorized bump down the center. I would swear someone else had slept on it and the mattress conformed to their body types and wasn't going to forget them. We called the mattress company and explained our issue but were told it takes at least ninety days to get used to a new mattress. Nights ninety one and ninety two must have felt okay because we decided to keep it - too much trouble to exchange, money invested, blah blah. We were only too happy to leave that mattress behind, hoping the next person could learn to negotiate that hill in the middle better than we did.

When we arrived in NYC we slept on our blow-up queen size mattress for five very long, very uncomfortable nights. (It sprung a leak on our very first night but fortunately a bicycle tire patching kit saved us.) We decided a queen size would work for us and give us more floor space. We were thrilled to be mattress shopping again. Finally, FINALLY, we would find something perfect. Firm, but not too firm. Something we could say "ah" on while we stretched, curled, and rolled over. Maybe a mattress where I would feel like bursting into song.

Not so fast. We tried out several mattresses, then tried out several more. Making a mattress decision after spending the night on a half inflated blow up mattress and a sense of urgency is not the best idea. But buy a mattress we did. It was delivered two nights ago and we discovered we bought a VERY firm mattress. As in sleeping on a board loosely wrapped in foam. And I swear it tilts, as in water boarding only the opposite direction. I am NOT bursting into song.

This salesman told us it takes only thirty days to know whether this will be a good mattress for us. So, it's down to 28 days (or nights).

 I am hoping for a fairy tale ending but I have a feeling this mattress is imbedded with a pea.

A Big Week, A Big Day

We made it. We are the in the Midtown of Midwest to Midtown. We left the Midwest last Wednesday after the wheat was harvested and in the bins and before the temperatures started climbing into the triple digits.  Our U-Haul ride across half of America was uneventful (thank goodness). The sale of the house closed yesterday, so now we call a NYC apartment home.

This was a tough move. Lots of heavy sighs as I packed up boxes, made last minute decisions on what to bring, and said goodbyes to friends. "I'm not leaving forever you know and my e-mail and cell number stay the same," I would say at each parting. This is a move both my husband and I desired but I fooled myself into thinking it would be much easier than it was. I wasn't really sorry to leave the weeding in the garden behind, or the house maintenance and cleaning of a big house, or one of the gas guzzling vehicles. At this stage I am missing my routine, my connections, and being settled.

The flip side is that there is a little guy in an apartment four floors above with beautiful blue eyes and a killer giggle that turns three months old today.  It's been seven days since we arrived here and we will figure out a structure to our days, and appreciate a super who, within an hour of reporting it, caulked the bathtub faucet (something we MIGHT have gotten around to in a month of two), and get used to the walking, walking, walking, and more walking.  But for today we have "birthdays" to celebrate. And smiles to exchange. And giggles to enjoy.

A Flea Market Starter Kit

Someone is about to get really lucky. They are going to get a lot of my things at a bargain price. They can resell it, re-gift it, or move it into their house. I don't care as long as they cart it away. This could be the start of a new reality show. My version of Storage Wars. Go find as much stuff as you can and see who can re-sell it at the highest price. Flea Market Fanatics. Uh, Flea Market Floozies. Well, Mike Burnett's marketing group will have to pitch their own ideas. Anyway...........

I don't want to have a moving/garage/relocation sale. Call it what you will. I consider the whole process a pain. I don't want to haggle over prices. I don't want to watch people pick over my stuff ("What possessed her to pick THAT pattern/color/shape?") and then reject it. And I sure don't want to sit in a hot garage for hours hoping people understood the directions to my cul-de-sac. I just want to be rid of a bunch of stuff all at the same time and have it carted away. No muss, no fuss.

Surely there is someone out there that enjoys the above much more than I do. Someone who likes to dig through boxes, and laundry baskets, and shelves for hidden gems. Someone who likes to sell someone else on the idea that they cannot possibly live without that wok, garden pot, or vase. I have just the deal for them. A flea market starter kit. Pay me X dollars and you can have EVERYTHING. No picking and choosing. No LL Bean backpack without the Farmway Co-op mug. No pretty basket without the saucer sled. And certainly no box of silverware without the fifty frames.

Some enterprising person out there is cruising the internet tonight hoping they will come across an ad for a Flea Market Starter Kit. Keep looking. It's out there.