Get your damn mattress off the floor.
If I had a punch card for every time I walked into a dude’s room and saw a mattress on the floor, I could make a shadow puppet of the Milky Way.
I want to help. If that means making a list of the places where you can get bed frames for as little as $25 dollars, and the Home Depots where you can rent a flatbed truck for very little moneys, I will do that for you.
Better yet: Do you have a friend with a truck? Of course you do; you’re a Minnesotan. Call that friend. Here’s a script:
“Hey, man, any chance I can borrow your truck from 11 to 1 on Sunday? I’ll hit you with a sixer of Summit afterward, maybe we can burn that pile of brush leaning against your shed, shoot the shit a while."
Just copy it, paste it, and read it out loud. (Not the quotation marks, leave those out.) It's grammatically correct, colloquial, actionable, expresses your gratitude, your appreciation for IPA’s and friendship. It’s fucking bulletproof.
Also, lots of bed frames can fit into a car if you put the stupid seats down, which I know you know how to do because that kayak/beer pong table/pallet of frozen Costco chicken breasts didn’t transport itself. LOOK AT ME. Look at yourself. How did you get the chicken breasts home?
Some websites like Amazon.com — heard of it? The address is in the name — or Overstock or Ikea will even ship you a bed frame for motherfucking free!
Estate sales (Google them) are popping off in the summer.
So is The Savers in Columbia Heights. As is the Savers in Minneapolis. And the Savers in Coon Rapids. And all the other Savers.
And all the other thrift stores, in all the other states. And Craigslist isn’t just for textual displays of misogyny — there's home stuff for purchase and for free on there. Stuff like bedframes. Or like, get one from your cousin who’s moving out of state and isn’t taking her stuff. Yeah, call your cousin and go get it. Ask her how stoked she is for grad school while you’re at it, you degenerate.
Oh, you don’t have a power drill? Good thing your neighbors do. Knock on their fucking door like a human. Pet their dog and get your sugar.
Because I can’t take it anymore. It just takes some effort. Why haven’t you done this? You’re not a minimalist or fresh out of college or in the Peace Corps or recovering from a divorce or migrating around the country on a rotational medical residency.
If you can afford eight Irish Car Bombs for the junior-level sales team, and can spare a five-hour window of time to watch so-and-so lose to so-and-so on ESPN, then you have the means to get your mattress off the floor, where the souls of all the women who have later regretted sleeping with you lay crushed into the carpet.
You have your whole death to sleep on the ground, okay? Okay.
All of us.