A-G-I-N-G!

I think my bed is trying to kill me. I’m serious. A few months ago, I went to bed feeling perfectly fine – sleepy and looking forward to a good night’s slumber – and when I woke up, I could barely move. My left hip and knee were so sore, I could hardly walk Maggie that morning. For sure she got shortchanged in the sniff-and-pee department.

 

While my hip recovered quickly, my knee? Not so much. I’ve been icing it and applying stinky topical pain relievers to the point where I’m sure anyone walking by me thinks I’m confusing pain reliever ointment with perfume.

 

All this pain simply from sleeping? C’mon. Life is not supposed to be this difficult, people!

 

I took to sleeping in my old spare room bed, which seemed to prevent any new aches and pains.

 

And I got rid of my cheap-o mattress that I bought when I moved here. I’d heard horror stories about people spending thousands of dollars on a particular type of mattress – and not being happy with it. I didn’t want to suffer the same fate.

 

I didn’t know the differences between types of mattresses and I didn’t have time to do any sort of research prior to moving. Memory Foam? Cooling Gel? Coils, inner springs, pillow tops? Oh my.

 

So I picked something inexpensive thinking it would do until I had more time to figure it out.

 

Yeah, clearly the memory foam mattress wasn’t it. For me, anyway.

 

Vince and I had bought a Sleep Number bed from someone years ago. It worked well for a long time, but eventually the air pump broke. Because it was a used bed, we couldn’t call the manufacturer to have new parts sent to us. So Vince did some sort of MacGyver repair with rubber bands and gaskets and chewing gum (I think), but that meant we couldn’t raise or lower our sleep number after that. 

Sort of defeats the purpose of a Sleep Number bed, doesn’t it? (I did write a rather amusing blog about our Sleep Number issue here if you'd like to read it.)

 

Anyway, I didn’t want to bring the bed with me when I moved. For one, it didn’t work right and I’m no MacGyver. And for another, it had so many baffles and foam pieces I didn’t think I could figure out how to jigsaw it back together. I’m not all that good with puzzles anyway.

 

So I recently did a little research and bought another, more expensive, mattress. And it’s sort of hard as a rock. Now I’m torn between sleeping on my softer, more giving, spare room bed – and my hard-as-a-rock bed.

 

I feel like Goldilocks. When am I gonna find a mattress that is “just right”?

 

Toppers have helped – a little. But eventually I’m going to add so many toppers to my bed that I’ll be forced to use a step ladder to climb into it at night. And Maggie Minx won’t be able to jump up into it no matter how spry she is.

 

I sure do miss those days when I could sleep pretty much anywhere on pretty much anything and I could wake up pretty much raring to go.

 

I remember one time in my mid-20s going to a Halloween party where the hosts had just bought an old house and hadn’t yet fixed it up – so it was perfect for a spooky Halloween party. There was a roll of new carpeting in one large room awaiting installation. I’m guessing they didn’t want to take the chance of installing it and then having a party with a bunch of 20-somethings spilling beer on their new carpet.

 

A group of us out-of-towners ended up using that roll of carpeting as our pillows and our jackets, coats and costumes as our blankets.

 

And no one complained.

 

Nowadays, I require a special ergonomic pillow to alleviate any possibility of waking up with a sore neck.

 

Aging. So fun.

 

I sure do miss those days when I could fall asleep all curled up and snug in my bed and wake up without experiencing a frozen shoulder or an aching back. Those days are gone for good, I fear. Nevertheless, I know that I need sleep every night in order to function. So I’m just doing my best to figure out how to make that happen.

 

Probably I should just walk into a Beds-R-Us in my PJs carrying my special ergonomic pillow and tell them I’ll let them know in the morning if I’m going to buy their bed.

 

And, PS, applying stinky topical pain reliever regularly does seem to be helping my sore knee. But perhaps I should knock on wood. I don’t need to tempt Fate or mean ol' Father Time. Neither has been very nice to me lately. Maybe I called ‘em “crotchety” once too often.

 

Until next time, friends.

 

A Chance Encounter

Yesterday Vince and I would have celebrated our 15^th wedding anniversary. We probably would have gone somewhere special for dinner and enjoyed a great bottle of wine. And, knowing Vince, he probably would have brought me a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

 

We would have talked about how 15 years flew by in a flash, but he would have said something especially sweet to me by telling me he’d loved every minute of it (even those times when we argued about whose turn it was to walk Maggie Minx.)

 

Instead, I went about my day as if it were just any old Friday in September. I filled up my gas tank and ran my car through the car wash. And I stopped by the library to pick up the September book club book.

 

As I crossed off items on my To-Do list, I felt a sense of accomplishment because I was being productive. But I missed him. All day long. And I had this sense of sadness because September 6^th isn’t really a special day anymore, except in my heart.

 

My last stop of the day was to go to Kroger to pick up a prescription as well as a few items I’d forgotten the last time I went grocery shopping.

 

As I was getting out of the car to head into the store, I received a text from a friend who said she’d gotten a reminder notification on her phone – and forwarded a picture of Vince and me on our wedding day.

 

It was sweet of her to remember and I appreciated it, but again, I felt the sadness start to take over and I even got a little choked up.

 

Yeah, this is not the sort of thing you want to be experiencing in the middle of the Kroger parking lot on a random Friday in September. 

 

So I got myself centered a bit and marched determinedly into the store. There’s no crying in Kroger, Jane!

 

I managed to get everything on my list…well, except for ice. I – once again – forgot the ice. I always remember it as I’m walking into the store, but a person can’t exactly walk around a grocery store with a bag of ice in her cart. It’ll be an expensive bag of slushy water by the time one reaches the checkout line.

 

Anyway, I finished up and loaded my purchases into the trunk.

 

After I dropped off the cart in the corral, I turned and headed back towards my car. A woman walking by my car said, “Is this your car and is your name Jane?”

 

Probably I should have looked it over for dings and dents in case there had been a runaway cart incident while I was in the store – but I answered her and said that, yes, my name is Jane. This, by the way, is not an indication that she was psychic or anything. My name is actually on my license plate.

 

I almost expected her to tell me her name was Jane as well. Instead, she said, “I just lost my best friend of 50 years this week. And her name was Jane.”

 

Immediately, I told her how sorry I was to hear it and that I can only imagine how hard it is to lose your best friend. She told me it was unexpected and she was still reeling from the shock and the loss.

 

“I used to call her Janie,” she said. “Did anyone ever call you Janie?”

 

Oh, man.

 

I told her that Vince, my husband, always called me Janie. And that today would have been our 15^th wedding anniversary. And then I told her that he’d passed away three years ago and I was kind of sad today.

 

So we stood there commiserating with each other over the loss of her friend and my husband. And then she asked me if she could give me a hug.

 

And she did. This perfect stranger and I stood in the middle of the Kroger parking lot and hugged one another.

 

It was an amazing moment. Because we both needed that little bit of comfort and I think we both felt a little bit better when we separated.

 

She told me that everyone needs a hug once in a while. And then she wished me a happy anniversary and told me to have a blessed day.

 

And then she turned and walked into the store.

 

She never even told me her name.

 

When I got into my vehicle and started it up, I was feeling that incredible rush from a chance encounter with a stranger. Was that a God wink or a Vince wink, or what?

 

I felt lighter and happier. And I knew that she was put in my path – and I was put in her path – for a reason.

 

So Happy 15^th Anniversary, my Vince. I forgot to buy myself some flowers. And I didn’t even crack open a bottle of wine. But I’m okay. You know that – right?

 

And I know it, too. Even if I did forget to buy ice.

 

Until next time, friends.