>Husband and I shopped for a new mattress on President's Day.  It was probably long overdue.  We have had the same futon since we moved in together in the summer of 1997.  Within a year, we broke a slat in the frame while engaging in some rambunctious activity.  Yet the bed still held up well with some tape, so we kept it.

I have some great memories of that futon.  We lived in a 200 square foot apartment, so a queen size futon took up a lot of space.  Back in those days, Steph used to come over almost every night and we’d sit in bed (as there was no where else to sit) and watch TV.  When Not-Yet-Husband came home from his job around 11:00, I’d snuggle between them and watch the news.  Not-Yet-Husband would kick her out precisely at 11:35, when the news ended.

Another time, Husband came home one night and found three female friends in bed with me watching and mocking porn.  His response: “When are you going?  I am tired.”  (Actually, they were sleeping under the kitchen table so that we could leave together the next morning for a trip.)

The futon made an awkward couch since it was queen size.  Whenever we’d have a party in our 200 square foot apartment, we had to fold it into a couch (or there would be absolutely no room).  The back was too high and the cushion sagged in weird places.  Crumbs would get everywhere.  One year a guest randomly told us he was not wearing underwear.  Although he had pants on, I still cringed and hoped he didn’t get crabs on my bed.

Ah, good times, the late ‘90s were.  The bed quieted down after we got married and moved to a real apartment in 2000.  It moved again with us to an even bigger apartment in 2002.  Sure, it is time for a new bed, but I’ll miss our old durable friend a lot.  I get so sentimental about things like this.  Brings a fuckin’ tear to my eye.