Mattress(less)ness

OMG. I have never had such anxiety over the purchase of a product in my life, and I think that I should never have to again. But, after hours--nay, days--of searching, both soul- and otherwise, I am now the mostly-proud owner of this bed. Let's take a brief look at the steps that got us to this juncture:

1999. I enroll in college and begin living in the dorms. And the beds, while longer than average, are actually pretty comfortable, at least in my opinion. Others may disagree, but I thought they were pretty okay at [university where I attended--oh, wait. I think I already mentioned in a previous posting that it was Northwestern.].

2001, summer/fall. I am introduced to the wonders of what many call "pillowtop." Now I can't live without it.

2004. I graduate from college and take my first teaching job, in Connecticut. Being poor, and also having moved across country, I have few choices of living arrangements and take residence in an "efficiency" apartment. AKA, a studio. My parents graciously help me buy a futon that will serve, as many futons do, as both a couch and a bed. This was purchased at IKEA and topped with my favorite mattress pad/pillowtop. It was pretty comfy.

2005. I take my current job at [name redacted] and move back to Illinois, bringing the futon with me. It becomes my couch in my new one-bedroom apartment. My parents graciously give me their old bed and box spring, which is at least one but not more than three decades old, most likely. Being, again, too poor to buy a mattress, I use this combination for the next three years, despite the fact that it is old and, in my opinion, not a good mattress for me.

2005-2008. My back problems slowly and inexorably increase. I also witness the Select Comfort Sleep Number Bed commercials on the telly, featuring those beds as well as Lindsay Wagner, the original Bionic Woman. I covet the beds.

2008, Memorial Day. I break down and go to the Select Comfort store at the mall and try out the beds. My sleep number is 35, which is softer and plushier than I was anticipating. But, as yet, I do not buy a bed. They're pretty expensive. Still coveting.

2008, fall. A friend of mine and writer of this blog moves and buys a new mattress from Ikea. He claims to like it. My salary increases at work, which means that I start reconsidering the prospect of buying a new mattress.

2008, October. I get a flier in the mail from Select Comfort, extolling the virtues of the sale they will be running until Veterans Day. The Mattress Search moves to the front burner, Joe-Biden-literally-ly.

2008: November 8. My parents and I talk on the phone of my desire to buy a new mattress and my angst over the Sleep Numbers. Mom tells me that Macy's is also having a Veterans Day sale, and I should check out their mattresses. Mental note.

2008: November 9. I visit Ikea, test the mattresses there. I visit the Macy's furniture store, test the mattresses there. I visit the Select Comfort store, where I acknowledge to the salesman that I have been there before and had my sleep number calculated, and test the mattresses there.

2008: November 10. I talk to the teachers at work about buying a new mattress and my angst over the sleep numbers and their priciness. The choir director tells me to just go ahead and buy the sleep number, because "you deserve it." I puzzle over what this might mean. I also talk to some friends over yummy Giordano's pizza (though not the pineapple pizza. Never pineapple) about my mattress woes.

2008: November 11. The day has arrived: the last day of the sleep number sale. If I am to have one of these luxurious glorified air mattresses, it must be today. I go to Ikea one last time to test their mattresses. I then make my way to the sleep number store. The salesman asks me if I've had my sleep number tested. I say no, because I want a second opinion about what my sleep number truly is. He takes me through the paces. Sleep number? 25. Ugh. We go over and try the Sleep Number 5000, which I lie on for probably a good half hour while he answers some of my questions, while other customers come in and try out beds, while he talks to the other salespeople, while he mills around. I tell him that I need to think about it and leave. I go home. After dinner, I drive back to the mall, after convincing myself that I am going to get a sleep number. I go into the store and tell the salesman that I need to lie in the bed once more. He lets me. I lie there for probably 10 or 15 minutes while he talks to a couple who, I conclude, end up deciding not to buy a mattress right then. I tell him that I just can't commit to it right then, and leave the store. He gives me a flyer about their beds which I already have from the first time I was there, but I take another one because I have to keep up the pretext that I wasn't really served the first time I visited. I drive to Ikea one last time and lie on the mattresses there. It's raining. Not in the store, silly--outside. But I'm trying to set the stage of gloom and indeciciveness here. I decide to go back and buy the sleep number, fo' sho' this time. I screw up my courage and drive over there, park the car, and sit in the car for one last moment of agony. I go inside, march up to him (not literally, of course--that would be weird and I never do anything weird) and tell him, "I've changed my mind. I would like to invest in a special edition bed." He looks perplexed for a moment, and then recovers himself and closes the sale. But it's not over yet! He asks me if I want to do the free financing, and at first I say yes. He gives me the forms. I start reading. He then asks me if I want to have them deliver the bed and remove my old mattress. It costs $160. I hesitate, and finally say that we'd "better" do that. He totals up the sale, which I'm not going to tell you the final total of here. That would be tacky. I then tell him that, actually, I think I don't want to do the financing--I'm going to pay for it now. He then asks me how I'd like to pay for it and I whip out Ole Plastic, tried and true. He takes the credit card and says that they still accept them, "but who knows how long that will last?" He rings me up and I sign the receipt. He then tells me to "relax. You made a good decision." Of course I did, punk! I made a great and wise decision which just resulted in you earning possibly your only commission of today. I drive home, the proud owner of a new mattress.