I’m not mentally disabled. I don’t have a tumor pressing against my frontal lobe and I didn’t contract syphilis from a hooker on the trunk of my car in the underbrush beside the Jersey turnpike.
So when I read on a receipt “NO DELIVERY CHARGE” I take that to mean that there is no delivery charge. I was an English major, and more than that I’ve spoken the language exclusively my whole life. I know what the words NO DELIVERY CHARGE mean, both individually and when placed together to form a phrase.
Which is why I was so surprised when the delivery guys showed up at The Girlfriend’s apartment and said that it would be $40 for them to carry it up the stairs. Apparently, that’s their policy. It’s their policy to write the words “NO WALK-UP FEE” and then, after you question the $40 walk-up fee, look at you like my sister's Yorkshire terrier smoking a joint.
At that point, The Girlfriend and I had two options: 1. Let these guys carry a frame, a box spring and a Queen-sized mattress up four flights of stairs for the reasonable price of $40, or 2. display our collective pride and tell them their services won’t be necessary and carry it up ourselves. I don’t think I have to tell you which one we chose. Let’s jut say you don’t write blog posts about two guys you don’t know carrying a 1000lb mattress up four flights of stairs.
(Note: This wasn’t the first time I’ve let my pride get in the way of my physical health. Last year after I first joined the gym, I approached a complicated looking machine with cables and a seat that faced no direction in particular. I could only guess how it was used, but, not wanting to seem clueless, I “got on” the machine and began doing what I thought the machine was supposed to do.
Five seconds in it became evident that whatever I was doing was not what the machine’s intended use. However, I wasn’t about to let the people around me think I didn’t know what I was doing, so I continued on with the awkward and painful motion for three sets of ten. The rest in between the sets, where I sat there trying to look competent, ranks in the top five most awkward moments of my life. Like I always say though, you can have a rotator cuff surgically repaired, but not your pride.)
Immediately regretting my decision to carry the mattress up with the
help guidance of a surgically repaired girl, I contemplated just leaving it on the second floor, hoping some fourth floor resident would get mad that it was blocking their path and carry it up the rest of the way. I know that sounds like a joke, but I’m serious. If there’s one thing this whole episode taught me about myself it’s this: I hate carrying heavy things up stairs. Apparently I’m “that” guy.
20 minutes and three promises to break up with one another later, we got the mattress into the apartment and set it up. The good news is that it is just as comfortable as Bill assured us it would be. The even better news is that it has additional high density encased springs throughout the lumbar region because my back is really fucked up.
And yet after all this, after the bed is made with clean sheets on it, after the girlfriend has made her first paranoid accusation that the lower left corner dips down, after I’ve ripped an awful fart in it, prompting The Girlfriend to lament “It’s ruined,” there’s still one thing bothering me. Maybe since everyone was so helpful in telling me why pants pockets are sewn shut* someone can be equally helpful with this:
Why are there flower patterns on mattresses?
Ever since I saw my first mattress they have had flower patterns no them. Who finds this attractive? Who buys a mattress because it has a flower pattern on it? Has this conversation happened?:
Guy: (laying on bed) “Hey, this one’s is really comfortable,”
Girl: (lays down next to him) “You’re right, it is comfortable. Too bad it doesn’t have a flower pattern on it.”
It’s probably the most expensive thing people buy for themselves that they subsequently hide underneath layers and layers of cloth so when they have company over the guests don’t have to look at it (unless you buy illegal immigrants). Yet they still put this flower pattern all over it? The worst part is, it’s not even a flower pattern! It’s a plant pattern! Some mess of leaves and stems inviting you to have a good night’s sleep . . . in the wilderness! Whatever, I’m done with mattresses.
* I’m sorry, but I can’t believe that they sew pants pockets closed to discourage you from putting stuff in them. They’re pockets! What else are you supposed to do with them, turn them inside out and make pretend your butt is a puppy dog with floppy ears? Ohh . . . OK, makes sense now. Nevermind.