The Mattress.

When Jesse and I were first married, our mode of sleeping was on my futon.  It was classy.

Then friends of ours asked if we wanted a king sized -- excuse me, California king sized mattress.  No frame, no box spring, just the mattress.  We said yes.  To a mattress on the floor.  That was another level of classy.

We have had that mattress since like the 3rd month after we got married.  It's lived through a lot.  Two previous owners before us (that we know of -- I try not to think about it), the Lord of the Fleas epidemic, the first time Jesse admitted he loved Cinnamon (Cin had an "accident" near the bed and I said we might have to put him down if this happens more and Jesse, who previously hated the cat, had a small conniption fit when I mentioned putting him down).

Needless to say, it was a long time coming to get a new bed.  We were both very excited when we decided to spend 2009's tax money on a new bed frame and mattress from IKEA.  We love Ikea.  The lady who sold us our car told us she hated Ikea because it made her feel like a sheep, like everyone was getting herded while there.  If that's the case then, baaa.  Sign me up.

Last night Jesse informs me that no, I will not be weaving in the ends of Susan's scarf, but we were going to Ikea to buy our new bedframe and mattress.  Originally we thought we would have the mattress delivered.  And then I was reading on Ikea how much it weighed, and the mattress comes ROLLED UP.  I am not kidding you.  

Please ignore the mess.  While the mess itself isn't completely out of the ordinary, we've been so preoccupied with Hank in our life that we haven't been spending much time at home, except of course to leave our plates in the sink and not put our clean clothes away.

Now, I suppose many people out there would enjoy putting something like a bedframe together.  They may feel that it makes them more safe, because they know they did it right.   I am not one of these people.  While I do enjoy putting things together, I don't enjoy thinking about spending upwards of $700 just to have the bed break on me in the middle of the night.  Also considering I had us waste about half an hour trying to shove some dowels into a hole that THEY WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO GO INTO.  My bad.  Suki however had a great time playing superintendent.

Note her astutely letting me know that I shouldn't have tools laying around on the floor.  Please don't write me up, it'll never happen again.

She would come in every 5 or 10 minutes, walk around the joint, lick herself a little, and leave.  I think she was impressed.  We at least pretended to work hard whenever she came in.  Cinnamon however hates change and commotion and spent most of the night hiding from us.  I have no photos of this.

Here is the before (well, "after" before, we had stripped the bed to move it into the second bedroom and Jesse was about ready to move it and I said WAIT I HAVE TO TAKE PICTURES FOR THE BLOG):

Here is the after:

Yes.  Shut up.  That is a "made" bed.  I'm not a big fan of making beds.  I do not find it offensive when someone shows me their bedroom and the bed is thrashed.  Sure, put your clothes away, your belongings in the proper place.  As long as the comforter is somewhere on the bed, your room is clean.

I immediately removed my pants and crawled into bed after taking that photo.  I was trying to convince myself to take it in the morning, but WE ALL KNOW THAT WOULDN'T HAVE HAPPENED.  And the bed will never be "made" again, so it was then or never.

As Jesse stated it, we are officially grown ups now.  But I'm not going to lie.  It depresses me a little bit that I can't jump on the bed anymore.

Sad face.