Sleeping, Without A Mattress

THE OLD MATTRESS has sat on my front porch for about three months, awaiting removal and disposal. When I discovered, too late, that it was infested with bugs, out it had to go. I like sleeping on the floor, always have. I recall that as a teenager, in 1971, when my family moved into my grandmother's house, vacated by her death, that I chose to sleep on the hardwood floor, some nights, in front of one of those little purring space heaters. The pleasnt purring, glowing warmth still allures me, desite the high cost of electricity. Now, though, they are more efficient. Nice on a cold winter's night. So, I'm back to doing that, this time, on carpet, which seems to itself have become infested with bugs. I have a skin rash. I'm on Prednizone. The rash is clearing up. I snuggle with my cat on the couch. I bought an air mattress, but can't figure out how to blow it up. Neither can anybody else. Soon, at the cost of about four thousand dollars, my carpet will be removed and replaced by hardwood floors similar to the ones in my grandmmother's old house, only this time the wood is some syhthetic substance, not the true wood of the nineteenth century. Still, good enough to sleep on, without the bugs. Over to the senior center I go each day, for lunch, and ready as always to volunteer to wash dishes, fry catfish, or whatever. For many years I did those chores on a daily basis, as a volunteer. Thousands of hours total, about twenty per week, four per day. Half of the people there, it seems, drive pick up trucks. I only need(ed) one, one nice person with a pick up truck to help me haul my old mattress to the dump, a journey of about ten minutes, a project of short duration, easy. I lost count of the number of my fellow seniors who told me "no problem, we'll gt it done". My neighbors across the street said something similar, that they would be glad to help me, the next time they have a complete load, ready to go. Heaven only knows when that will be. About half the people in this country, and in this small country town drive pick up trucks, it seems, almost everyone but me. All I need is just one, for twenty minutes...Well, it never got done, or hasn't. But now, finally, I think I have it solved. The nice gentleman whose small local company is going to install my new flooring has a pick up truck, a couple of healthy kids, and he has promised me that they will come and take my mattress. To say the least, I cannot wait, or barely can. Three months with an old mattress on my front porch, since the scorching heat of August, until now, Thanksgiving. I feel like giving thanks, and will, if all goes well. I mean, I am paying this guy a little more than four thousand dollars, so, the removal of an old mattress I take as a bonus, a bonus he can readily provide. I am gratfeul to him, and be doubtless be more grateful still when I behold my shiny new carpet free bug free wooden floors. As for the senior center and the good folks who go there, I like them generally, even the religious fanatics and the Trump supporters. The food is great, the conversation often illuminating and pleasant. But still, after all the free labor I have given to it over the years, one might think that getting the help of borrowing a pick up truck for twenty minutes to haul away an old mattress would be somewhat simpler and less painful to arrange than, say, pulling teeth. In that regard, I am dealing with a four thousand dollar floor installer at an opportune time. Still and all, it seems a pretty hefty price to pay for the carrying away of an old worn out mattress, but, in the end, worth every penny.