THE WAR OF THE MATTRESS

10 years.

That’s how long we’ve had our mattress.  10 years.  AND we bought if off our friends, when it was two years old.

So Charlie and I sleep on a 12 year old mattress every night.  Now don’t get me wrong: it has been a good mattress; a great mattress even, but it’s time. It’s time to say goodbye.

Have you seen the add on tv for mattresses; I don’t know what company it is or anything, but the couple climb out of bed, and they have left like an imprinted outline of their body in the mattress, because they’ve been using it for sooooo long?

Well, that’s Charlie and I.

I’m tired of waking up aching and with a sore back, neck and shoulders because the mattress is past its best.  Plus, God knows what’s living in it.  You know how germaphobic I am… OMG… I’m trying not to think about it…

So, a couple of years ago, I said to Charlie-Albert that it was time.  Time to look at getting a new mattress.  Yes; I’ve been putting up with this pain in the arse (not Charlie, the mattress) for all of this time.

His answer?  Well, his answer was two fold.  Firstly, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, and secondly; we can’t afford it.

After many attempts to change his mind, I simply failed.  He was not convinced that we needed a new mattress; therefore, he could not justify the expense in getting a new one. 

Please understand that Charlie is not a tight-arse, or is he mean in any way.  He is a practical man with simple needs and a simple view of life.  He’s not materialistic; he just wants what he needs to get buy.  However, sometimes, shit wears out and you need to replace it.  This is what he has trouble getting his head around.  The mattress, although looking just fine, was fucked and needed replacing.

So it was time to take things to the next level.  Time to start formulating a battle plan that will eventually lead me to victory in the War of the Mattress.

Firstly, I needed to formulate a strategy.  I needed tackle this problem on two fronts: one being the ‘it ain’t broke’ front, and the other ‘we can’t afford it’ front.  It’s time to play smart.  I am a woman, after all.

There are many keys to a successful battle.  You need to know your enemy, you need to exercise extreme patience, and you must know when to deliver the final blow that will carry you to victory.

So, my first strategy was to increase the level of awareness in my husband that something was indeed wrong with the mattress.  This had to be tacked in a variety of ways.

Awareness Through Inconvenience

Knowing my enemy as I do, Charlie doesn’t give a fuck about anything unless it directly affects him.  Therefore, I needed to ‘affect’ him, for him to change his point of view.

Firstly, I would wait until I knew he was settled and comfortable on the couch or in front of his computer, then I would call him into the bedroom to help me turn the mattress over.

‘Why do we have to keep doing this?’ he would complain.  ‘Because the mattress is fucked Charlie, and we can’t keep it on one side for too long now.’ I would reply sweetly.  ‘I’m just trying to get as much out of the mattress as we possibly can.’

On the weekends, when he would snuggle up and ask me for some lovin’, I would say ‘OMG Charlie. You cannot be serious? I can barely walk when I get off this mattress in the morning.  You expect me to swing off the chandeliers as well?’

About once every couple of months, I would ask me to help me haul the mattress out onto the verandah.  ‘What the fuck are we doing this for?’ he would ask.  ‘Well, it’s a nice sunny day, and I would like to air the mattress out a little.’

Awareness Through Realisation

On the weekends, when he didn’t have to get up early for work, I would slowly get out of bed, and sit on the edge of it for a few minutes.  When he asked if I was okay, I would reply ‘my neck and back are sore, darl.  You don’t usually see me in the morning, but I get up off this fucken mattress stiff and store, and if I move too quickly, I’ll pop my neck out.’

I constantly reminded him that I had appointments at the osteopath.  Now, I do need to go to the osteo for regular tune ups, but that’s because I’m old and fucked.  However, passively suggesting that this is because of the condition of our mattress, was not a disadvantage.  In actual fact, I’m sure that the mattress contributes greatly to me being old and fucked.

He would complain about his shoulders and neck every now and then, and this was nothing more than an opportunity for me to attack my weakened enemy.  ‘That’s because of the fucken mattress, love.’  The fact that the mattress was effecting him too, was worrying me, particularly when he worked physically, and relied on his body being in strong and able.

‘I didn’t sleep very well last night…’ he would complain.  ‘That’s because you were tossing and turning all night, and that was possibly because you couldn’t get comfortable on that fucken mattress…’

And so it went on.

The seed of awareness was planted, because at every turn, I was able to increase his understanding that there was indeed a problem with the mattress, and it wasn’t just affecting me.

He needed to understand that my wanting a new mattress wasn’t just a passing fancy; it was necessary to fix the problems that both of us were clearly having.

What helped me immensely during this 18 month war, was the fortunate occasions where we travelled, and stayed in hotels.

‘How good is this mattress?’ I would smile, snuggling down into it at night.  ‘I slept like a baby last night!’ I would declare, leaping out of bed in the morning.  ‘I feel so good, and have no pain!  Want some lovin’?’

I’m sure you get the picture.

The second strategy, was to get him into a position where it became justifiable in his mind to purchase a new mattress.  This was going to prove a little more challenging, and would definitely require one simple thing: opportunity.

You see, I knew there would be a point in time where Charlie would like to purchase something big.  Something expensive.  Or, he would want to do something with the farm or the cattle that would cost considerable money.  This is where I would find my opportunity, and this is where I would be able to deliver the fatal, convincing blow.

So, after many months of increasing my husbands awareness, and waiting very patiently for an opportunity to present itself, it finally did.

Charlie sat me down one evening, and said ‘I need to talk to you about something.’  Now, at this comment, most people would panic, but me? I felt the tingle of excitement, because I knew I was about to see the bright light of golden opportunity.

Charlie wanted to re-sew the farm.  As a result of the heavy rains we had over the last couple of years, a lot of native grasses are growing in our pastures.  The unfortunate things about this, is that cattle don’t eat this native grass.  Not only that, but the native grass is taking over from the pasture, shrinking the amount of food we can supply to our cattle.  It was a problem that had to be fixed, no doubt.

We have 100 acres of pasture land that is near useless, unless we replace this native grass.  Great.  However, this problem is easily solved.  We improve the soil with natural nutrients, burn off the native grasses and weeds, and re-sew the paddocks. 

Charlie had it all worked out.  It would be a three to four year process, involving a program staggered across each year, with each paddock being developed in stages so we could rotate our cattle and keep feeding them.  I must say, he had researched and planned this all out brilliantly.  He is clever like that.

What he didn’t count on, was me and my strategic manoeuvres in the War of the Mattress.

‘How much is this going to cost?’ I asked.

‘Over the period planned, about $10,000.00.’

‘What the fuck?  Ten grand? Where the fuck are we gonna get that money from?  We can’t even afford to buy a new mattress! How can we afford ten grand?’

Of course, I knew the answer.  The answer was wandering around out there in the paddocks, doing their job.  The cattle.  The money we receive from selling the cattle at market or privately butchered would pay for the improvements to the pasture.

Naturally, he explained this to me.

So herein lays the opportunity; the opportunity to execute the final blow; put him into a position where he understands that it is justifiable to buy a new mattress.

‘Charlie, I understand that we need to improve the pasture, otherwise there is no point having cattle on here.  We can’t sustain them.’  I say quietly.  ‘But I must be honest about something.’

‘What?’

‘I’m sick and tired of watching you bust your nuts over the cattle, and we reap no direct reward for it.’ I begin.  ‘Sure, we pay lumps off our mortgage with the funds, or pay for Jade’s education, which is great.  But we retain nothing for ourselves.  We don’t reward ourselves for all of this work Charlie.  Surely it’s time we started doing that?’

‘Yeah… I see what you’re saying…’

‘I’m not talking thousands and thousands of dollars here, Charlie, because we simply don’t have that.  Our mortgage is the priority.  We agreed to that.’ I continue.  ‘What I’m saying is that we should take a small percentage of these cow funds, and spend them on ourselves.  Take what proceeds you need from the cows and pour it back into the pasture, but retain something for ourselves.’

‘What would you suggest we spend it on?’

‘Well for one, a new mattress.’ 

BANG.  There is it.

‘Oh, I see…’ He was surprised that I didn’t suggest a fucken holiday to Bali, I could see it in his eyes.  ‘Yes, we do need a new mattress, don’t we?’ he agreed, thinking he was getting off lightly.

BANG.

‘Indeed we do, and with the cow butchering we have coming up in a couple of months, let’s apportion the majority of the funds to your pasture improvement plan, and the rest to a fucken mattress.  There is nothing else we need, Charlie.  Just a new mattress.’

Charlie was getting what he wanted (and realistically, what our farm needed; no question) and so was I.

‘All right, then.  We’ll do that.  I’ll start work on the pasture improvement, and we’ll get a new mattress at Christmas time.’

‘It is a far better thing that I do now, than I have ever done before.’  Charles Dickens ‘A Tale of Two Cities’.