If only life were as easy as moving a matress

This past weekend, the eastern seaboard (Including, and limited to New York City) was hit by Hurricane Irene, aptly named as Irene is my mother's middle name.  But I digress.   In anticipation, New Yorkers hurried to the nearest Whole Foods or Dean and Deluca to stock up on what they would need in the event of a 40 year flood: Water Bottles (most New Yorkers don't realize they have a sink, or even a kitchen),  Batteries (which still get made, to the surprise of many), Eggs Benedict and Bloody Mary mix (the storm was coming on a Sunday, and they'll be damned if they miss brunch), and four or five hundred dollars in cash (presumably, in the event of a power outage, the delivery man won't be able to run credit cards). 

Myself, I had plenty of food since I just got back into town after being away all summer, remarkably found an unopened pack of AAA's, filled up a couple old water bottles for good measure, and had a stack of books at the ready.  I also took out the air conditioners because the last thing I needed was one of them to fall out of a window and suddenly get all wet while I'm trying to sleep through it all. 


After the storm passed (which, by the way, fell somewhat short in terms of magnitude), I was left to clean up all of my preparations.  Water?  I can drink that. Batteries? Eh, I'll use them eventually.  Air conditioner on the floor?  Hmmm.... I could put it back in the window, but like any little home project, that takes twice as much work than one might think.  Besides, fall is a few short weeks away and the weather is already starting to turn cool.  I'll just put it away. 

Away means under my bed.  The underbelly of a New Yorker's bed is prime real estate.  Some, like me, use it for storage, but in a lean year I can always rent it out in an ad reading "Cozy space for rent.  Perfect for the creative type.  No smokers."  There are two methods of putting anything away under my bed; 1) Lifting the mattress and box spring off and placing the items underneath and 2) Army crawl. Army crawl is best for small light items located near the open side (my bed sits in the corner).  Being that a window air conditioning unit does not qualify as "small" nor "light" I am forced to option one.  As a stubborn person, I care not to ask for assistance, or move any of the other furniture in my room in order to reduce my chances of getting a hernia.  Oh sure, I remove the 16 pairs of shoes that are in my way because I'd rather not loose my balance, but I see this as a challenge and, ultimately, a good workout. 

First goes the mattress, which comes off easier than you might think.  This is due to the fact that it is already two feet off the ground and hence far less difficult to leverage.  The box spring is made with a few Popsicle sticks, cardboard, and some fabric and allows for a high ease of move score.  The air conditioner, while heavy, is easily handled by an able bodied person and placed in it's winter home without much fuss.  The same goes for putting the box spring back on the frame. 

Getting the mattress back on the box spring is not a skill possessed by many.  They are large, heavy, and flimsy.  Proper training is required as it takes strength, agility, and a basic understanding of mechanical engineering.  Also handy is anyone over 6 feet tall, and Tae Kwon Do prodigies.  I possess none of these, but I am also a daredevil and disregard any warnings.  I contemplate flipping the mattress first as I understand that is advisable as often as you change your oil.  I don't own a car, therefore I don't need to change it's oil, so that is reason enough not to attempt the mattress flip.  Besides, It is an advanced technique anyway, and is advised only for well seasoned mattress movers.  I may be a daredevil, but I know when to stop. Some mattresses have handles strategically positioned to aid the novice mattress mover, but there was no room in my mattress buying budget for handles.  Over the course of about one half-hour (5 minutes in real time) I try lifting the mattress above my head like Superman, sliding it across the carpet, and finally settle on systematically rolling one corner onto the box spring and clumsily gyrating the mattress against the back wall and letting it slide down into place.  At this point I'm glad I still haven't hung any of the pictures I've been meaning to hang above my bed for about a year now as I would now be occupied with cleaning up broken glass. 


Who the hell invented the mattress anyway?  I'm not convinced my back is any better off on these slabs of wire.  I think a good woven straw cot or hammock is a much better idea.  It would really set me apart from most other people.  I could have friends over and show them my room.  They'd snicker at first but then realize what a creative idea it is to have a hammock and instantly find me more interesting.

"What a practical solution for a small space!" they'd say.
"You really think so?" I ask.
"Of Course!"
"Oh, I suppose you're right."
"I am right."

The options are endless.  I can re-arrange my space almost instantly, and easily fold it up every time I wanted to do yoga or take out my snowboots. Not to mention easy to take with you, a big selling point for a nomad like me.  Just think of the luxury involved in being able to take my bed in my carry on luggage.  From New York to Tunis: Anywhere I hang my hammock in home. 

Is this it? Am I in the right place?

Did I do it?  I think i just created a blog. I think.  I've tried countless times, but I don't last.  I recently joined tumbler, but that is turning out to be a bit of a bust.  Perhaps I should have a friend help me with that one since clearly I'm stuck in the 1800's when it comes to technology.  I sent my first e-mail in the year 2000 which is several years past when e-mailing became popular.  My ability to adapt to technology is severely inhibited by my ability to discount every new device that comes our way as a simple fad.  I remember when the iPhone came out thinking, "Who the hell would want that?  Why do you need to carry the internet around with you everywhere?  I already have a phone and an iPod, so why would I need this expensive, delicate thing instead?" Now, truth be told, I think they are pretty swank.  I'm so jealous of everyone who has one.  I'm not however jealous of having to pay all that money to have all that swank, but so goes the world I guess. 

It does puzzle me.  Puzzle?  No, wrong term.  Annoy me when I see folks glued to their phones.  This sentiment is hardly anything new or revolutionary, but I really have to wonder what is so goddamn important on that e-mail that you have to check it now while you're trying to put the cream and sugar in your coffee.  Must be a really good Groupon or something.  I say this as a person whose first movement each day is to reach for his laptop and check Facebook. 

I've realized that I move a little slower than the world around me, and I don't think that's all together a bad thing.  I relish the moments where I'm perceptively doing nothing.  I say perceptively because an outsider would just see me sitting there staring into the great abyss, whereas I know that the wheels of my mind are in overdrive.  All just a matter of perception.  Teachers used to say I lacked focus, I used to say that I was a dreamer, like Walt Disney. 

But this can't all be a bad thing, right?  It takes all kinds, or so I hear.  I don't feel as if I were born at the wrong time, but I've never felt like I identified with the social current.   The recent Woody Allen movie "Midnight in Paris"  touched on this precise idea. Owen Wilson's character thought he would have flourished if he had lived in 1920's Paris with the likes of Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, and Cole Porter.  He learned (as any good protagonist will learn in a story) how you can complain that you were born too late, but you have to live in the time in which you live, and be thankful that technological advances, like Novocaine, make our lives better.  Or, in my case, smart phones.