I’ve been bed-hopping a lot lately. No, it’s not what you’re thinking. I’m in there all by myself.
I have been switching from master bedroom to guest room and back, trying to get comfortable with my broken rib. When you live alone in a four-bedroom house, all the rooms are yours to sleep in. I have slept on the couch, too. Also the hot tub, but you can’t do that for eight hours.
If you don’t remember the story, which I told in detail last week, a board in my deck collapsed under my foot, my leg plunged in and the rest of me went backwards. I wound up with a severely bruised leg and a broken rib. It could have been so much worse.
Back to bed-hopping. The master bedroom is probably the nicest room in the house. It’s pretty, color-coordinated in pinks and blues, with my stuffed bear collection there to keep me company and my shrine to my late husband next to his side of the bed. Everything I need is close by. But the queen-sized pillowtop mattress my husband talked me into years ago is more firm than soft. There is a school of thought that a firm mattress is better for your health, but when you’re nursing a broken rib, it’s like sleeping on a slab of wood, and no position feels good.
The mattress in the guest room is soft. It feels like sinking into a marshmallow. Too soft, some might say, but after a couple nights of pain, I decided to try it. My bones liked it. That room is not as pretty. Goodwill dresser, random art, needs new paint. Plus there’s too much light. Despite the blinds and curtains, the new hyper-white street light pours in. Blue and green lights shine from my Internet and cable TV boxes. I prefer a dark room. But the bed is so soft.
I spent the last week and a half sleeping in the guest room. Now the rib is better. I still feel some soreness, but I can sneeze without dying, and I don’t need pain medication anymore. I moved across the hall again. Last night, I slept in the master bedroom. I dreamed my brother won the Olympics. At age 69. What sport? I think it was speed walking, which I’m not sure is a real event, but it was a fun dream, and our parents were still alive in it.
Now I wonder if maybe I have lived with the harder bed long enough and should switch beds or buy a new one. The queen-sized bed won’t fit in the guest room, so . . . I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just keep the neighbors confused with different lights in different rooms. Does she have company? There are no cars in the driveway . . .
Like Goldilocks, I’m still seeking the bed that feels just right. And no, I’m not buying a “Sleep Number” bed. I have tried them. That much technology keeps me awake.
How about you? Are you a fan of soft beds, firm beds, or something in the middle? Does your partner feel the same way? Where was the best bed you ever slept in?
Some sleepy reading:
https://www.mattressclarity.com/blog/firm-vs-soft-mattress/ “Firm vs. Soft Mattress: Which is Best for You?”
https://www.sleepfoundation.org/mattress-information/firm-vs-soft-mattress Sleep Foundation: “Do I Need a Firm or Soft Mattress?”
https://www.sleepjunkie.com/firm-vs-soft-mattress/ Sleep Junkie: “Firm vs. Soft Mattress”