It doesn’t matter, though, because she didn’t get it anyway.
Kiddo#4 needs a real bed, not a toddler bed. We took inventory in the attic, and we’ve got a bed frame and a box spring, but no mattress. Being an enterprising soul, I looked online for the address of a furniture store nearby where we had to go for a doctor appointment anyhow, and when I found it, the first review said something to the effect of “Every store in this chain is infested with bed bugs.”
Lovely, right? According to the reviewer, because this store offers to take away your old mattress when you get a new one, and because they don’t make any attempt to keep the old and new mattresses separate, their trucks and delivery guys are infested with bed bugs. So you buy a mattress and pay for one delivery, but you get two.
I got itchy just thinking about this, and that week, I failed to buy a mattress from anywhere because I couldn’t figure out how you buy a bed without the bugs, since in theory, any store is going to have that problem.
This Tuesday, I brilliantly had a flash of that brilliant insight for which I’ve become brilliantly famous, and for once, I don’t think the household guardian angels ducked for cover. BJ’s sells mattresses. They don’t deliver them; they don’t care if you still have one in your house. There’s no way for bed bugs to go upstream. Perfect!
And this week, I’m down two kids, so I could turn my vehicle into a mattress-hauling machine of doom!
Or rather, I thought I could. I asked online first if such a thing were possible, and other moms assured me they’d done the same.
So yesterday, I walked around BJ’s with a large flat cart, hauling a twin size mattress. And of course, Kiddo#3 wondered if the BJ’s bakery would give them free cookies (because that’s what you do when you buy a mattress half an hour before dinner) and at the bakery, I felt kind of like a cad to just get cookies and not buy anything, so I picked up a bag of bagels and tossed it onto the mattress.
We paid, and at the door we had to present our receipt to leave. The nice woman there is familiar, although I’m sure she wouldn’t recognize me, and she’s always been nice, and therefore she didn’t deserve what I did next. Although, as I said, she didn’t realize it.
Because as she looked at the receipt, with its two items, and then the mattress with its solitary bag of bagels, I said to her, “It’s a bed and breakfast.”
She punched a hole in the receipt and let us go through.
And because the universe doesn’t really believe in Karma, the mattress did fit inside the van.