The Float bed by Okooko (New Zealand) - this is what my bed feels like to me
Well, here I am, writing my official first blog post from my official new apartment in Toronto. It's lovely, and is the first time that I've been surrounded by my own things and have had my wardrobe properly unpacked in 14 months. It's so refreshing - there's so much that's good about travelling and living lightly that I had forgotten how relaxing and comfortable it can feel to be in your own little nest of material objects. It is nice. Colbert approves. Also for the first time ever I have a queen-sized bed. My previous beds have never been bigger than a 3/4 (which they don't even make anymore! [except maybe at Sears, but that's unconfirmed]). When mum offered it to me I jumped at the chance to take it off her hands, even though I wasn't exactly sure it would fit in the bedroom (turns out it does, quite easily) or how we would get it up the two sets of winding stairs that lead to my (as usual) third-floor apartment. (I will never learn, or maybe I just like the view from up here.)
Drew and I had the task of moving both of our beds from Fenelon to Kingston and Toronto, on different trips. Drew's bed was straight-forward. He has a double bed, pillow-top, box-spring, all very manageable, holdable, carryable, liftable, slideable, and quick. We had it in his apartment in under ten minutes.
My bed was a totally different story. The mattress came from our good good family friend, Jean, and it is amazingly comfortable and soft. This is because as far as anyone can tell it's just a foot-thick piece of memory-foam. While awesomely-heavenly-marshmallowy-comfy, it's a frigging nightmare to move. There is nothing on it that can be easily gripped - no little ledge of material like on most mattresses - it doesn't slide, it is really heavy, and it doesn't hold it's shape. We first realized that we'd be moving a giant foam jellyfish into my apartment when we tried to move it into the truck in Fenelon. Nothing worked. We lifted on either side and the middle of the mattress sank to the floor so that we were holding something similar to a wet sponge folded in half. We tried turning it on its side to lift from the bottom, and folded the bottom towards the top. You get the idea.
Fast forward: Drew and I on the (first set of) carpeted stairs leading to my apartment. He's in front, trying to pull, but the damn thing doesn't slide. I'm behind, trying to push, my hands sinking deeper into the soft jello-y mass and basically balling up the mattress in the hallway like expandable caulking. We humphed the mattress, inch by inch up all the stairs, around all the corners (including a marvellous 180 degree turn at my apartment door), and ended up sweaty messes totally out of breath slumped in despair on the stairs (because the box-spring was next). This we hauled up the side of the building with a 30' hemp rope as thick as your wrist. Not easy, especially when it got caught on the second floor eaves.
However, all of this is in the glorious past! And I am left with a magical bed of deep sleep and resting joints! My back is in love, and even though Drew is only keeping it warm on weekends I have slept pretty soundly with little Colby at the foot of the bed.