Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Mattress on roof, will travel.

Putting a brand new box spring in the rain is certainly not advisable, but who takes advice when they should? Not us. Oh no.

"Gee babe, looks cloudy. Think we can make it?"

My fiancé and I bought a queen mattress and box spring this weekend. Super cheap, great quality. We were able to grab a mini van, but the box spring would not fit in the back. So, we strapped it to the luggage rack. As we pulled away from the loading dock, I cast a wary eye at the clouds above. We had a 45min drive ahead of us.

"It won't rain," my fiancé said. "God loves us."

"He does," I replied, "but he also has a sense of humor."

Boy did He. As soon as we merged onto the highway (driving at a cautious 45 mph) the deluge started. The box spring was covered in plastic but we had no hope. It looked like a wind sail. Every car on the highway passed us like it was their business.




But we made it into town. I grabbed my cell phone.

"Hi dad, happy Father's Day. Guess what."

My dad, brother, and fiancé moved the box spring and mattress into my apartment in the pouring rain. (I stood to the side supportively.) There was much hauling, pushing, pulling and maneuvering. The men-folk decreed that they could not get the box spring into the apartment thought my front door, as the hallway was too narrow. So we shoved it up to my second-story balcony. With the "help" of my brother (he was busy abusing one of my cats), I pulled it over the ledge while the other two pushed it up to us. It was a success. We cut the plastic off and drenched my floors, but to our utter amazement the box spring was very dry. One corner was a bit damp, but not soaked.






We all stood around boasting of our mattress-moving prowess for a while. Then I wished dad a proper Father's Day with the first volume of The Walking Dead comic book. He was pumped. I got a text message later that said "great gift!" In the end, all men want is a picture book about zombies eating brains. (Me too, for that matter. Oh well.)

Of course, as soon as we walked out onto the porch, sopping wet, the clouds dissipated and a heatwave hotter than Vulcan's gonads hit. You can't win. But I guess I got a queen mattress, so take that, weather!