It's 5 am. Its 5 am, and I'm awake. Its 5 am, and I am awake and upstairs and writing. We moved to paradise, the land of no schedules, no alarm clocks, and I'm up, alone, in the dark, writing. What's wrong with this picture? Its the bed. I hate it. Actually, we have two. I hate them both.
The first bed came with the house. Like every Mexican bed I've ever slept on, its short. About 6 inches shorter than the mattresses I'm used to. My legs hang off from mid-shin down. Its also narrow. Its supposed to be the equivalent of a double bed, but it lacks about 3 inches of width to make it.
Now, I can handle my feet hanging off the bed and being closer to my beloved. But it gets worse. The mattress is about 4 inches thick on a board platform about 8 inches tall. It has actual springs, and, near the top, a couple are staring to poke through. I call this bed The Rack.
The Rack leaves my sleeping face 12 inches off the ground – prime dog-licking height. The headboard, also like every Mexican bed I've ever slept on, doesn't come all the way down to where the mattress is. instead, it leaves a large gap, which my pillows easily squirt through in the night, leaving me groping vainly in the dark.
After a week of sleeping on The Rack, we went to Sam's and got a blow up airbed with an electric pump. Since its imported from the US, it is a standard queen size. It is now possible to keep all arms and legs safely inside the bed. The top of the mattress is 24 inches off the floor, putting my face safely out of licking range.
The problem with this bed is that the concept is flawed. It's not and air bed, its a pool float on steroids. It has no rigidity (duh), and no support. The heaviest part of your body sinks the lowest, and you tend to roll toward your bed mate. This means I have been sleeping in contortionist positions that haven't been comfortable since I was 5. I never sleep well, and I always wake up with aches. I call this bed The Marshmallow.
I doubt The Marshmallow was intended for extended use. It has completely lost its rectangular shape. Its very round, and much higher in the middle than the edges. So now, we both sleep in the middle or roll out of bed. It has become so round that it won't sit against the wall anymore, so our pillows fall off. Without our pillows, the edges of the bed are very noticeably lower than the center, giving an inverted feeling. I often dream of falling.
We discovered the real problem with The Marshmallow two nights ago. We were turning it around to try and get a higher side for our heads when Tasha jumped up and pierced it with one of the daggers she wears for claws. WHOOSH! We went and got a patch kit and dutifully followed the directions. We even slept on The Rack while we gave the adhesive 24 hours to dry.
Last night we blew it up, laid on some sheets, and climbed on. At 3:30 this morning, my hiney was touching tile floor. I woke Chuck up and told him we had to put some air in the bed. I cranked on the pump, figuring we should get a few more hours once the bed was full again, but by 4:30 I couldn't stand it any longer. I was trapped on my back and couldn't stand up. I started to feel quite Kafkaesque, but finally managed to roll out of bed onto my hands and knees to stand up. As soon as my weight was off the bed, Chuck hit the floor with an audible thump. I guess the patch didn't take.
So that's how I ended up here, in front of my keyboard, at 5 am. I am sitting here yawning while I type and considering the possibility of a nap. But where? The Marshmallow or The Rack? Maybe I'll try the nice, wooden couch; it looks like it might be more comfortable.
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