We bought a mattress Saturday.  The last time we did so, as nearly as we can remember it, was 1984.  I had some vague notion that mattresses needed to be replaced occasionally but it never bubbled its way to the top of the priority list until we both began to suffer from random back problems.  Now I find that one should replace it about every 10 years.  One guy at a mattress store laughed out loud and expressed his incredulity at that longevity. 

I’m a bit cynical about sales of such items – if they say you need to replace them every 10 years at least and probably more often than that, I usually assume that they’re overselling the point but I’d say 26 years is above and beyond the normal lifetime. 

I can never remember my parents ever buying a mattress but that’s not the sort of thing you tend to remember as a kid.  That’s the sort of thing that they just took care of – or I guess they must have since none of us were sleeping on bags of straw. 

So when the squeaking and hammock-like shape finally got our attention, we decided to shop for another after dropping Erin at the airport. It didn’t take long – mattresses are not the sort of thing that change a lot over time and everybody sells the same thing and the same brands.  Only the prices vary and they vary widely.  We bought from a place in our town and that was closest to our house.  It’s a family owned business and their teenage son followed me home with it in the back of his pickup.  This was far superior to the nationwide chain store that informed us that it would be at least a week before they could deliver.

I can’t believe how much better it feels to lay on it.  I’m definitely not waiting another 26 years to buy another one.

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