Massive Bedlam

[Note to reader: This blog entry was written by both Zane - in Georgia font and Julie - in Courier font]

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My parents, fearful that any motion to move past my living at home might ostracize me from my childhood boudaire, have kept my bedroom the same more-or-less since I graduated high school. Dealt with as a shrine to my greatness and/or temporary store-room for my stuff in between moves, my room has always bee na reliable area to place my things (not “CRAP” Maren…). With and understanding that my room would never be visible to guests. It was acceptable to lack the impeccable cleanliness portrayed in the rest of the house.

For about a year now when staying at his parent’s house, Z and I have been doing what I like to call the “Bedtime Ballet.” We dance to our separate and conjoined bedrooms, I to his sister’s and he to his childhood shrine, only to shortly after pirouette to the connecting bathroom and secretly share his room. It sounds like a sweet deal, until you see the shelves with every inch covered in gazing eyes of a hundred action heroes and twin beds that make up Z’s slumber stage. Once a childhood dream of bunk beds, they now reduce to a couple’s nightmare. With my bad back and his boney elbows, the sweetness of falling asleep in each other’s arms is reduced to restless tossing and the occasional losing of one’s balance to the doll covered floor beneath.

Julie thinks it’s bad now! My first room could have been mistaken for a toy box. No matter when or how frequently it was cleaned. In a day’s time there would be but a trail of six inch width leading from the bed to the door of free clear floor space.

Certainly since the time of my youth I have relinquished much of my sentimentality. However I still see use in my old plastic representations of comic book characters and historical figures. As a reward for keeping them all these years my parents have secured their place as “best grandparents” simply because of all the bitching toys my kids will get.

I would just like to clarify, that what Z describes as “historical figures” are really Jesus figurines. I didn’t know Z had found his path to the Lord, you say? No, no. Jesus figurines=Jesus playing baseball with kids, Jesus shoving a kid out of the way to catch a football, etc.

Sharing Z’s shrine that would make a knick knack proprietor weak in the knees is not without its moments. While still maintaining the separate room charade for his parents, who I am sure are smarter than we gave them credit, we had a little run in. Waking suddenly to the sound of his mom bursting through his bedroom door, all I could think was “Hide! Hide!” I sunk between the mattress and the wall becoming one with the sheets, and kept my stealthy spot till it was clear. Success! It was then I came to terms with the fact that I am a 25 year old woman hiding under Smurf sheets sharing my crevice with Teddy, Z’s age old pal, trying to escape what? My adulthood?

Never did I imagine that my name would be featured in a sentence followed by an apostrophy, an “s”, and above-all, the words “king sized bed.” While it may not be a waterbed, have an equally sizable mirror over it, or a built in bar, it still holds all the charm you’d expect from a 8’ x 8’ bed. I keep telling my mom there’s an order to things. “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in the baby carriage.” But it seems that she’s eagerly jumping the gun for a little JZ sequel.

It was time for a change. Since Z can’t get beyond his mental block of sleeping in his sister’s big girl room, I surmised that our visits here would turn into me sleeping in the second twin bed in the attempt to “share a room.” When his mom opted to upgrade Z’s room I jumped at the chance. No more scandalous rendezvous, finding Teddy shoved in my face nightly, reminiscing of my dorm days. Sign me up! Little did I know what we were in store for.

The night before, my mom tried to get me to assist her in her secret bed project. While normally I would stay clear of these harebrained schemes, this one seemed sound in her excited telling of it. Twenty minutes later my room appeared to be the latest recipient of an H-Bomb. It was quickly apparent that this was a task more complex than just pushing two bed frames together.

Here is the foolproof way to economically increase your sleeping space using a set of bunk beds and a little elbow grease I like to call Melissa:

Step one: Push two separated twin bunk beds together.

Step two: Add lots of padding to even up the heights.

Step three: Add lots of rolled up padding to the gap between mattresses.

Step four: Add multiple egg crates and king size mattress pads.

Step five: Realize the keyword is padding.

Step six: Put on really awesome satin-y blue polka dot sheets.

Step seven: Realize you should swap one tall end and a short top to make a more level headboard and footboard.

Step eight: Undo steps 1-6.

Step nine: Swap bed ends.

Step ten: Repeat steps 1-6.

Step back and admire what can only be described as a hovercraft of dreams.

This makeshift wrestling ring signifies the ever nearing realization of a lifelong dream to have a room consisting entirely of mattresses and pillows. We went from having a room the size of a bed in Athol to a bed the size of a room in Long Island. All that is left is to bring the two together and fill it with more pillows than a McDonald’s play place has balls covered in H1N1.

Now you too can create the world’s largest bed. Certainly there are some tweaks that could be made. Right now it is like a Sleep Number bed stuck on 2 and 99. As far as a giant bed with enough room for six, it’s pretty great. Thanks to Melissa we now have a room to share that would make Austin Powers jealous.

Groovy baby!

Now if only we can find a king sized car bed.