Thrice upon a mattress

Murray Steller may not be a saint in your hagio- graphy, but he is in mine.

He's a cool gnome of a guy who used to own the town's foremost flooring and furnishings supplier. (If you've lived in the Keys for a while, you'll remember the Broadway tenor warbling his TV tag line, "STELLL-ler's, Carpet One!" At which a dog barks in the background, and you hear Murray: "Quiet, Max!")

When Murray was closing his retail business, Robert sought him out for a deal on two kings and a queen. Handshakes all around, and Murray said we could keep the goods in his warehouse for a late-summer delivery.

That was Feb. 18, 2006.

We've kept in touch in the ensuing 14 months, but this week he finally called with a touch of desperation. He was at long last cleaning out his warehouse, and where the hell were we? (Murray would never say it that way, but I could sure hear it that way.)

One truck and two young, strong and skilled Czech lads later, plus Deco and Dave manhandling one king set upstairs over the loft railing, the three sets were out of Murray's thinning hair.

Of course we can't even think about sleeping on them until we get a Certificate of Occupancy, and they're not really handy to work around. But like Everest, they're there.