Zen and the Art of Bed Bugs

My restless nights of wedding stress have since melted away, only to be replaced with joyful anticipation. Anticipation to meet Nick's family. To spend time with mine. To stand barefoot on the beach and drink mass quantities of spiked lemonade. Such bliss.

While we are away on our honeymoon some of Nick's family will be keeping our cats company in our cramped apartment. In preparation for their stay I've been running around like a lunatic creating checklists. Put up new shower curtain liners. Scrub the cabinets. Hide the naughties. Wash the linens.

This afternoon as I was downstairs doing laundry I made a remarkable discovery in the hallway. An abandoned mattress. The perfect size for our empty trundle bed. A trundle bed that would make the most magnificent of guest beds for weary relatives. It was fate.

After dragging the mattress up three flights of stairs I finally busted through our front door in a puddle of wheezing sweat. Nick looked up from the computer in horror.

"No. Uh-uh. Not gonna happen. Take that thing back where you found it. It's vile."

I would be lying if I told you this was the first questionable object I dug up in our basement.

"What do you mean vile," I pleaded, conjuring up my best used-car salesman impersonation. "This thing is perfect! A Godsend! A steal!" I was already thinking about how grateful his brother would be when he discovered I just saved him from camping out on our cheap jute rug for a week.

"Well if that thing was abandoned, I'm sure it was for a good reason," he interjected. "And if it wasn't abandoned, then you must have stolen it from somebody moving in. It wasn't in the hallway, was it? Did you just jack that from someone?"

I thought fast. "Umm... no! I didn't steal it. I mean, I don't think I stole it. There was nobody around. It's mine!"

This went on until the used-car salesman morphed into psychotic-territorial-fiance who'll lose a limb before giving up this freebie. Eventually he gave up and slunk back to his computer while I inspected my prize. I put it through what I like to call Amanda's Test of Compatibility:

Visually the mattress looked sound. Check.

Next, I sniffed every square inch of its surface. No offending odors. Check.

Finally, I rubbed my face all over the top before grinning and tucking it away on our trundle frame. If I wake up tomorrow morning with hives, I'll consider it a sign. Only then will I admit defeat and lug my trophy back downstairs to where I found it. If not, I just scored us a pretty sweet guest bed.


I'll keep you posted.





Image by señor x