Taking it to the Mattress

Recently, after fits of tossing and turning, and noticing more squeaking and creaking, my husband and I decided to make one of our most adult-feeling purchases to date: We decided it was time for a new mattress.

I have to admit, the impetus for this decision came in two forms: 1.) We finally saw a bedroom set that appealed to our extremely picky style; and 2.) Annoyed with each of us feeling like the other is intruding upon his/her side, and with a 60-pound dog adding herself into the mix about halfway through the night, we realized it was time to upgrade to a king-size bed.

So, with the shipping confirmation of our bedroom set from Crate & Barrel safely in our inbox, we were prepared to conquer the next step: the mattress.

If you haven’t shopped for a mattress in an actual mattress store, I recommend it for experience’s sake alone. There’s something surreal about lying on a bare mattress with your shoes on and your partner next to you, both of you trying to surmise how you’ll feel about lying on this surface for the next decade or so. I mean, how better to contemplate this decision than lying on your back, staring at ceiling-tile stains in a fluorescent-lighted showroom while listening to a taped infomercial explaining the benefits of the coils and padding under you.

If you have had the pleasure of this experience, then you know that the salespeople rank second in voracity only to those found on used-car lots. They insist that you take your time and “get comfortable” to assess the full impact of their products while they stare at you and follow you around from bed to bed, grinning like idiots. Luckily, our salesman was gracious enough to leave us alone as we tested about a half-dozen mattresses.

We started by lying on our backs, then flipping to our sides, facing each other and trying not to laugh — we tried instead to focus intently on how our backs felt, how our hips felt, how our entire body was cradled in layers of some fiber said to be invented by NASA.

Then we’d move to the next and repeat the ritual, which only confused me more. After all, I remember really liking our current bed when we bought it six years ago, only to frown upon it now, with its “compressed” coils and its unsupportive pillowtop. I blame it on my advancing age. I stand by my purchase.

Of course, adding to my confusion was the fact that these mattresses come with a 20-year warranty. Yet at a recent dinner party, former mattress-selling friends of mine told me the longest I’d ever want to keep a mattress was 10 years — tops. With dust mites and sweat and skin particles and all. Gross. They actually informed me that in that time your mattress will double in weight from these things. Super gross.

With all this in my head, who the hell knows what to think? You would think I could just lie down and say “yes” or “no.” After all – who knows what the future holds? Doesn’t every big decision go like this? And don’t all those big decisions turn out to be smaller and smaller with the passage of time?

“You know, with the purchase of this mattress you get two free pillows,” the helpful salesman added as he casually strolled back to check on us.

Turns out, that’s all I needed - Sold. After all, neither of the houses I bought came with free pillows.