In all my complaining, I'm surprised I've forgotten to mention that DrC and I haven't had a good night's sleep in close to seven months. While the possibility of frozen extremities, drowning in spit, or the sounds of the diesel heater taking off might possibly come to mind as causal, the real culprit has been the bed.
Or perhaps it is more accurate to say beds, because DrC and I have cycled through a startlingly broad range and bewildering variety of bedding in a vain attempt to find the perfect comfort mattress. We've tried Frolies and we've tried Ikea. We added foam padding, bubble wrap, and space age stuffing. We even tried $2.50 swim floats from Walgren's. Thus far, the search for a comfortable night's sleep has been fruitless. Each morning we awake to the same ritual.
Toast yawns, “Okay, that sucked for me. How 'bout you?”
DrC tentatively stretches and clenches up half way to a full reach, “No.”
“No, it didn't suck? or No, it sucked and I hurt like hell.”
DrC creaks as he sits up and edges to the end of the bunk, “We need to try something else.”
There are two possible interpretations of this quest. First – and the theory I personally favor – boat bedding is a considerable challenge. Alternatively, DrC and I are over 40 and getting old. I'm not going to even dignify the second theory with additional clarification. Either you, my dear reader, are old enough that back problems are something you reject on principle in the same way you pull gray out of your scalp each morning, or you are a young whipper snapper, and you need to shut up and listen to your elders.
Going with the first theory, I offer the following supporting arguments:
Thing 1) Boat beds can not have box springs.
Thing 2) Boat beds frequently do not fit standard shapes and so rule out conventional solutions such as popping down to the nearest Mattress Outlet and getting something on sale. And finally....
Thing 3) Boat beds almost inevitably must fold in half or break into pieces because some crucial, must-get-to-it-in-less-than-30-seconds-or-the-boat-sinks bit of equipment is installed beneath it.
It's that last one that screws the pouch on Don Quixote. Real Sailors will undoubtedly either sneer or boggle, but the Lagoon's are outfitted with bunks that come in standard, commercial bed sizes. The aft cabins are both queens, the port forward cabin is a twin with wings. This makes sheets easy. It should have made a mattress easy. The problem is that our battery bank and the single most usable locker for stowing books, spare clothes, and parts is under that bed. With DrC's wonderful shelving addition, it is just not possible to put in a standard queen size mattress.
We started with the cushions that come with the boat. Those suck. If you are ever offered an opportunity to provision a brand new boat, just say no to the factory bunk cushions. Say it loudly. Say it really really really loudly. In addition to being wildly uncomfortable, for some damn reason it does not matter which orientation you put them in, they slide everything to the middle. This is great until your husband arrives in the middle of the night in a comatose, massive lump on top of your right hip.
Cushions on Frolies meant we slid into each other during the early evening instead of waiting till the middle of the night. Putting the Ikea mattress pad on top made the sliding less noticeable, but DrC's head hit the ceiling when he went to pee in the middle of the night. Removing the cushions dropped us down six inches at the cost of my man's tender hips. Adding egg shell foam from WalMart made his hips hurt less but resulted in a nasty sponging effect that felt like sleeping on the edge of a kitchen sink complete with skanky sponge smell. Covering the egg shell with a super padded mattress pad from Target worked for a few months. However, reluctantly we realized that we'd eliminated the pressure points, but now had no give for the curve of our spines resulting in crippling pain every morning.
Tonight we installed a $25 queen size air bed from Target underneath the Ikea mattress pad. It's possible this will work. As I sit and type, my butt does not hurt. My hair is brushing the ceiling, but at this point, I'd put up with halving the air space in this cabin if I could just get a full night's sleep without waking up feeling like I'd been in traction all night.
I'm no longer hopeful, however. Hope is for young people.
Or perhaps it is more accurate to say beds, because DrC and I have cycled through a startlingly broad range and bewildering variety of bedding in a vain attempt to find the perfect comfort mattress. We've tried Frolies and we've tried Ikea. We added foam padding, bubble wrap, and space age stuffing. We even tried $2.50 swim floats from Walgren's. Thus far, the search for a comfortable night's sleep has been fruitless. Each morning we awake to the same ritual.
Toast yawns, “Okay, that sucked for me. How 'bout you?”
DrC tentatively stretches and clenches up half way to a full reach, “No.”
“No, it didn't suck? or No, it sucked and I hurt like hell.”
DrC creaks as he sits up and edges to the end of the bunk, “We need to try something else.”
There are two possible interpretations of this quest. First – and the theory I personally favor – boat bedding is a considerable challenge. Alternatively, DrC and I are over 40 and getting old. I'm not going to even dignify the second theory with additional clarification. Either you, my dear reader, are old enough that back problems are something you reject on principle in the same way you pull gray out of your scalp each morning, or you are a young whipper snapper, and you need to shut up and listen to your elders.
Going with the first theory, I offer the following supporting arguments:
Thing 1) Boat beds can not have box springs.
Thing 2) Boat beds frequently do not fit standard shapes and so rule out conventional solutions such as popping down to the nearest Mattress Outlet and getting something on sale. And finally....
Thing 3) Boat beds almost inevitably must fold in half or break into pieces because some crucial, must-get-to-it-in-less-than-30-seconds-or-the-boat-sinks bit of equipment is installed beneath it.
It's that last one that screws the pouch on Don Quixote. Real Sailors will undoubtedly either sneer or boggle, but the Lagoon's are outfitted with bunks that come in standard, commercial bed sizes. The aft cabins are both queens, the port forward cabin is a twin with wings. This makes sheets easy. It should have made a mattress easy. The problem is that our battery bank and the single most usable locker for stowing books, spare clothes, and parts is under that bed. With DrC's wonderful shelving addition, it is just not possible to put in a standard queen size mattress.
We started with the cushions that come with the boat. Those suck. If you are ever offered an opportunity to provision a brand new boat, just say no to the factory bunk cushions. Say it loudly. Say it really really really loudly. In addition to being wildly uncomfortable, for some damn reason it does not matter which orientation you put them in, they slide everything to the middle. This is great until your husband arrives in the middle of the night in a comatose, massive lump on top of your right hip.
Cushions on Frolies meant we slid into each other during the early evening instead of waiting till the middle of the night. Putting the Ikea mattress pad on top made the sliding less noticeable, but DrC's head hit the ceiling when he went to pee in the middle of the night. Removing the cushions dropped us down six inches at the cost of my man's tender hips. Adding egg shell foam from WalMart made his hips hurt less but resulted in a nasty sponging effect that felt like sleeping on the edge of a kitchen sink complete with skanky sponge smell. Covering the egg shell with a super padded mattress pad from Target worked for a few months. However, reluctantly we realized that we'd eliminated the pressure points, but now had no give for the curve of our spines resulting in crippling pain every morning.
Tonight we installed a $25 queen size air bed from Target underneath the Ikea mattress pad. It's possible this will work. As I sit and type, my butt does not hurt. My hair is brushing the ceiling, but at this point, I'd put up with halving the air space in this cabin if I could just get a full night's sleep without waking up feeling like I'd been in traction all night.
I'm no longer hopeful, however. Hope is for young people.