The mattress, the mess, and the moral.

In September, my husband spent the majority of a week at a conference in Orlando.

(Yes, we perpetually sang it like they do in “Two by Two” from Book of Mormon, a play I found so hilarious I saw it on Broadway twice.)

Naturally, on the day he left, the mattress we’d ordered online got delivered.

You know the kind- rolled-up, vacuum-packed, and shoved into a box. 

The FedEx guy was nice enough to help me get it over the threshold at the front door and into the foyer, where I thought it would have to stay for the week.

I decided I could at least cut the box open, flip the whole thing onto the opposite end, and then lift the box off, so just the mattress would be in the foyer, not the giant box. 

Progress!

Then maybe I could try to drag it upstairs?

Step, heave, repeat. More progress!

And then, surely, I could try to move our old, very heavy mattress off the bed frame, right?

If my life were a movie, this would have been the record-scratch freeze-frame where the narrator told you how wrong everything was about to go.

I’d rapidly found myself in a position where I was beyond the point of no return, new mattress in the hallway, old mattress off the frame but completely blocking the door to the bedroom, and me- 40% dejected, 60% determined, sporting a newly tweaked back. (A surprise to literally no one.)

I had no choice but to drag the unwieldy and uncooperative old mattress into a different room just so I could sleep in my bedroom that night. 

There was sweating, too many dogs underfoot, and the use of a random extension cord as an impromptu mattress lasso.

I did get the old mattress out of the way, but blocked another room to do it, so we’ll call it a limited success. 

Then, with the finish line in sight, I unwrapped the new mattress.

It was supposed to stay all vacuumed up until I cut the plastic wrap. 

Instead, it immediately started expanding itself, upside down, on the bed frame…where 1/4 of the slats had shifted and fallen off the rails.

There was more sweating as I held the mattress up with one hand and fixed the slats underneath with the other. 

Then, still more sweating as I flipped the mattress all by myself and got it situated where it actually belonged.

I promptly decided the old mattress and the new packaging were problems for another day.

I was tired, sore, and in desperate need of a shower.

But I did it.

The bed was in place, right side up, and freshly made. 

It’s funny how often we think we’re waiting for “the right time.”

For help. For permission. For someone else to make the moment feel special.

But the best moments? They’re the ones we claim ourselves.

I did what needed doing- and as a reward, I slept through the night for the first time in months. 

So tackle that project. Cook that fancy meal. Buy that jewelry.

Not because someone else might. 

Because you can.