It was too cold to play
So I sat in the house
All that wet muggy monsoon-like cloudburst and prolonged thunder showery day
The familiar rainy-season suicidal longueurs were creeping upon me yesterday, so I took firm and decisive action. I went and played Musical Mattresses.
Bref, I have two beds and four mattresses (for certain values of mattress) and my life is a constant juggling act trying to find a combination that I can sleep on comfortably at night (bedroom) and study upon comfortably during the day (guest room.) In the days when I lived on the downstairs sofa this was less important, but last summer I migrated to the spare room for reading and acrostic purposes. This wasn't conscious, naturally; I just found myself there and comfortable and not needing a lamp, and there I stayed.
And that was good because the spare room platform had the firm high mattress on it, so my myriad books and pads and pens didn't slide down the sheeted waves as they normally do. (I've inherited my mother's ability to lose large objects in a double bed, never mind small ones.) At night I slept on the futon and the Ikea mattress cover, and that was sort of good. But the bouncy old mattress sat on its side blocking my bedroom bookshelves, a chronic eyesore and nuisance, while the mattress cover kept moving under me when I slept. So I put the bouncy mattress on the futon and the mattress cover against the wall, but that wasn't any better. So a week ago I dragged the firm mattress down the hallway to the bedroom and put it on the futon, and dragged the bouncy mattress and cover back down the hallway to the spare room bed. But the bouncy mattress was too soft to study on and the firm mattress made my back hurt. (Are you following all this? Try drawing a diagram: that might help.)
What I had to do, clearly, was move the futon; but moving futons is a major chore. Mattresses have sensible handles sewn on them. Futons, or the heavy leaden inert things they call a futon over here, don't. There's nothing to hold on to.
But shou ga nai. I removed my piles of bedding (two duvets, one blanket, four pillows), removed the firm mattress and balanced it precariously against the table. (Moving mattresses usually involves me breaking things. Lamps are especially vulnerable.) Then I heaved up the futon and wrestled it onto its side. At which point if there'd been two of me we'd have slid it along the hallway to the spare room. Alas, there is only one of me, and futons have nothing to catch hold of. With your hands, that is. You can catch hold of them happily with your teeth. Which I did. And pulled it along the hallway that way, guiding it with my hands. You did get that, yes? I move futons with my teeth because I am just
And then there was the matter of the dust mastodons revealed under the bed frame. I've mended my shiftless ways; I no longer vacuum my bedroom once a year whether it needs it or not. I cleaned and dusted under the bed last December, and the rest of the room every few weeks since, and I'm offended that there are still dust mastodons after a mere four months or so. OTOH I discovered a dust *jacket* missing from last summer, so maybe I wasn't all that thorough. Whatever. I dusted and cleaned, and moved boxes and dusted and cleaned behind them, and then put the mattress and the mattress cover on the bed frame and made up the bed. And turned on the air purifier to avoid an allergy attack.
And then I did the same thing in the side room-- shift platform, dust and wash that area (swifters are seriously over-rated BTW: it's vacuums or washing cloths or both) and find a covering for that bed. The futon cover has a pattern and it distracts me when I'm looking for pens and flash cards, so I had to get a plain sheet instead. But the futon on the bouncy mattress is almost as firm as the firm mattress, so I am content.
Except that the mattress cover on the firm mattress is too soft. Bog bed, as we used to say. One doesn't win this one.
(And again, I have no sense of satisfaction in the fact that both my bedrooms are squeaky clean. If the basic satisfaction of having a clean and tidy house is gone, I don't know what I'll do. The only reason one cleans in the first place is to have the sense of order and mastery that follows.)