I have met my white whale. My quest to vanquish an enormous, intimidating beast was fraught with peril and, sadly, heart breaking defeat.
I swear I gave it everything I had. I wrestled. I punched. I stomped. I cursed. I wailed and even thought a trip to the ER was going to be necessary. But it was all for naught. The beast didn’t give up and at the end I had nothing left but to admit I had lost. I had literally brought to my knees and subjugated.
It all began on a Sunday morning that was full of promise. The sun was shining and the house smelled like bacon and hot maple syrup. All the signs pointed to it being a very delicious day. Before I began eating my breakfast I popped into my daughter’s room to grab her laundry hamper and that’s where the journey began.
On the floor of her bedroom was a behemoth that was so large it almost covered her entire 8 X 10 polka-dotted area rug. Being a mother, I, of course, knew what I had to do. That sprawling brute had to be taken down.
Maybe it was the adrenaline talking, but at first I thought I could not just do it, but do it quickly. It just seemed like it would be easy. One of those things you could just pull the plug on. I did that. I promised I did, but then I tripped and it had me.
I was on my back flailing as the creature whooshed out air and entrapped me what felt like a cold, slimy, poly vinyl chloride embrace. I thrashed and gave it a right hook and then a left, but I still couldn’t get free. Finally, I escaped. The beast look deflated and I thought I had triumphed.
But my victory wasn’t complete. Although, I had beaten the air out of it I still had to remove the thing from my child’s room. As I was contemplating if it would be better to roll it up or fold it I spied a small pouch.
Was this the conduit in which this now collapsed creature had been transported? It couldn’t be, could it? Why the pouch wasn’t even as big as a Ziploc freezer bag. How did something that measured almost 8 feet by 10 feet fit into something that small? Did this thing consuming floor space in my child’s room have magical properties? Was there a shrinking spell that needed to be cast? My mind was officially boggled.
I decided to abandon thoughts of sorcery and apply logic. Surely, this could be accomplished with some sort of precision folding. I was going to go “full mom” on it. For standing before you is a human that graduated, with honors, from the Martha Stewart school of fitted sheet folding. (Full disclosure, I watched a YouTube video, but if Martha had been standing next to me she would have been impressed.)
I first smoothed the surface, then I began using geometry to crease and fold and then crease and fold some more. Eventually, I had gotten the beast as small as possible. My fingers ached and my carpel tunnels had been aggravated, but it was worth it. I was going to jam the bad boy into that pouch.
Except I didn’t. I was fought every step of the way. No matter what I did from trampling it to trying a system of space-saving pleats nothing worked. Not threats, not curses, not even almost dislocating my shoulder by exerting so much shoving pressure did the trick.
I had no choice, but to bow before the king size air mattress and its storage pouch declaring it my master and overlord forever. I had been conquered by an inflatable bed.