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Bedtime Story
By Camerin Courtney
September 5, 2001
You were right!
Last fall I wrote about my need for a new bed since the twin that had been my slumbering companion since grade school was becoming as saggy and lumpy with age as its owner. The million-dollar question, however, was whether I should replace my twin with another small sleeping space or scrape together the bucks for a "grown-up" bed. It was practicality versus pampering, with all kinds of singleness symbolism thrown in. (See Sleeping Single in a Lumpy Bed).
E-mail after e-mail from you wise single folks sharing your own bed-buying stories said, "Upgrade! Splurge! It's worth it!" And I'm happy to say, after a week of sleeping on my new queen-sized Serta, I couldn't agree more.
I finally decided to take the plunge last week when I detected a new lump in my old mattress in my ribcage region. (This is good only if you're the main character in The Princess and the Pea.) And the finances suddenly seemed doable when I received notice that my tax refund check is due in the mail any day now. My friend Ingrid graciously agreed to be my shopping companion, since she's bought a bed once before, qualifying her as an "expert" in my book since that's exactly one more time than I've ever bought one.
So last Monday we darkened the door of a local mattress store and were met by Scott, the smiling, radio-announcer-voiced mattress salesman. When he asked which kind of mattress I like best, I fought the temptation to say the kind that doesn't have lumps or make me feel as if I'm 10. Then I realized he meant which kind of mattress firmness I prefer. When I told him I wasn't sure, he pointed to three beds at the front of the store that represented the various options. "Give them a try," he suggested.
This seemed like a great idea until I realized three things. One, the beds were right next to the large front window of the store, which is right next door to a very busy restaurant. Two, novice that I am, I wasn't dressed appropriately for bed-hopping. It soon became apparent that the knee-length skirt I was wearing was going to be a challenge as I climbed up on these tall sample sleepers and tried not to provide pre-dinner entertainment for all the next-door diners. Third, it's difficult to make a good decision about which mattress firmness you prefer when you're giggling hysterically with your kind-hearted girlfriend because you feel like idiots — or some sort of Goldilocks wannabes.
I finally settled on "plush," the middle-ground option between firm and soft — which is "just right" in Goldilocks and the Three Bears terminology. Scott the Mattress Salesman asked how much I wanted to spend, then showed me two sleeping beauties in my price range. The good news was that he wasn't really Scott the Mattress Salesman, but Scott the Regional Manager Posing as Mattress Salesman. He explained that they'd fired the store's manager just the day before and he was covering until the new guy could start. And because he couldn't earn any commission, he knocked the 100 bucks the salesman would have pocketed off the already reduced price. "You came in on the right day," he said. I smiled and exchanged a knowing glance with Ingrid. We'd been trying to schedule this shopping excursion for a couple weeks. Obviously God had helped us pick the right day.
After we arranged for delivery and I signed on the dotted line, I treated Ingrid at a nearby coffee shop, where we toasted her "expert" help, my new big-girl bed, and our friendship.
The next day I found myself at a bedding store, shocked by how much more queen-sized sheets cost than their twin-sized counterparts. And the selection in the sale bin wasn't nearly as good either. I used to be able to find really pretty sheets easily since the first ones to go in the twin size usually have space monsters, Barbie dolls, or cartoon characters on them. There just isn't a big demand for classy twin sheets.
The day after, I was at the laundromat washing the stiff newness out of these pricey new sheets, discouraged by how much more room they took up in the machines than my old sets. I could see more loads and lots more quarters in my future. And I won't even get into the contortions I experienced trying to fold these huge sheets and then putting them on my bed that first night after it was delivered — all by myself.
I'm not complaining. Really. I love this new piece of furniture on which I'll sleep in on Saturday mornings, journal my deepest fears and dreams in life, read page-turning mysteries too late into the night, perhaps one day rest with my someday spouse, and communicate with the One who never sleeps or slumbers (Psalm 121:4). And I really dig the fact that my tax refund check footed half the bill!
I'm mainly relaying all the factors that led me to the conclusion that sleeping single in a lumpy bed may be uncomfortable, depressingly symbolic, and a bit embarrassing, but it's also cheaper, simpler, and roomier (my new bed takes up one-third of my bedroom!) than anything "bigger and better." In some ways, I thought as I was drifting off to wondrous sleep that first night, the same could be said for the single life. This whole bed-buying scenario seemed like a microcosm for the pros and cons that exist whether we spend our nights alone in a twin or with a spouse in a queen. At the end of the day we all hop into bed and rest from the challenges and joys of our particular life story, and wake to await the new plot twists our favorite Author will
provide.
When I awoke that morning completely in love with my new bed and so happy I'd taken the plunge, I had the funniest revelation of all: Though he's not exactly a romantic spouse, I did end up buying my new bed with a man. Yep, me and Uncle Sam!
Blessings!
Camerin Courtney
Camerin welcomes your feedback and brainstorms at:
SinglesNewsletter@ChristianityToday.com
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Copyright © 2001 ChristianityToday.com
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