Sofa-bed Day!

It’s early Friday morning, and I am sitting here patiently (read: anxiously) waiting for my new sofa-bed. I am happy with the state of the spare room, even though there is still some stuff around. The big bed is now in the garage, which is the main thing.
By Wednesday evening, I had put a load of stuff in the loft, and I’d moved the mattress off our bed into the garage, and the mattress off the bed in the spare room onto our bed again.
The mattress that was on our bed is five feet wide, and six feet six inches long. It must weigh at least a ton, and has the awkwardness and cumbersome-ness of a corpse (not that I’d know, just watch a lot of “Forensic Detectives” on Discovery) I maneuvered this thing over a bed frame, out onto a tiny landing, down the stairs, out of the front door, along the path and into the garage.
The people that make mattresses put helpful ‘handles’ on the long sides of the mattress, to aid moving. How helpful. Not. If they’d had the presence of mind to put them on the short sides, that would have helped. Instead, I had to grip the edges and pray.
I have decided that talking to mattresses does not help. Neither does cursing, in hindsight, although it felt good at the time. I ended up hating the people that built my house, for putting a ledge on the threshold of my front door, and hating my nice neighbour for not being out and about to help me.
However, all that being said, the mattress is now in the garage, drunkenly snoozing against the wall, and I am happy. I achieved that. I did it. No-one else; and it feels good.
After that, the base of the bed was easy. It was made in two halves, and is a simple pine frame covered in springs and fabric. The fabric is a kind of sateen, and glided down the stairs like Michelle Kwan.
The room looks strange without much in it. I’m left with a sense of abandonment – of being lost, somehow.
Maybe it’s how all the stuff feels. I’ll never find any of it again…