30 Days – Day 16 – “Fucking mattress”

Something or someone you definitely could live without.

That fucking mattress. The thing’s fucked, but I don’t have the money to go and get a new one. As I’ve mentioned before my room’s a cell, so I’ve only got a single bed. Nobody’s ever in it bar me as my house isn’t one of those ones that you can get any sort of privacy with, every room has someone in it and the PC sits out on the top landing and it’s nearly always occupied. Hard to get up to much when there’s someone sat little more than six feet away through a thin interior wall. The room itself more or less lacks a ceiling, or at least a flat one. As it’s built into the roof it slopes down with the lowest part being at the head of my bed, so even sitting relaxing is out of the question, which partly explains why I’ve left it so long before getting a new mattress.

While I’m not one of those people who treat a mattress like you would a church, it is something you spend more than a quarter of your day lying on, so it’s fairly important that it’s comfortable. As it is there’s a big dip in the middle of mine where the springs have been defeated over the years by my expanding arse. When I do get rid of it I’m going to sell it to a museum as a maximum security floor panel, because every time you so much as fucking breath the thing squeaks, groans, pops, boings, rattles and cries. Imagine jumping on a load of bubble wrap like that scene in Ace Ventura, except instead of air it’s old arthritic men with lung cancer and a horrible wife, that’s what it sounds like. I can feel the springs inside when I move and it’s gotten bad enough that I’m lying at a slight slope when I sleep like one of the fucking Scott Tracy on the way down to his Thunderbird.

Bring me a new mattress Santa, ideally a king size one and the room to go with it.