What is this, you ask? Well, in a perfect world it is a piece of art. It looks like an aardvark or a deer. It is an ancient artifact found in an archeological dig somewhere near the Himalayan mountains. In a perfect world, it’s priceless and all of my money woes cease to exist because I own it.
But we do not live in a perfect world. The world we live in is messy and people make mistakes, things break, and to get through, you must have a pretty good sense of humor.
This beautiful piece of metal is not an archeological find from the Mesolithic period. This amazing piece of metal is actually a piece of our bed, a piece of our broken bed, that is.
After a very relaxing Thanksgiving with good company, good conversation, and good food, Tom and I retired early. We were both feeling the effects of the tryptophan induced coma setting in, and we agreed that a solid nine hours of sleep sounded delightfully decadent. We got into bed, he on his side, me on mine. He leaned over to kiss me good night, and kerplunk. The bed fell to the floor, well at least the corner under my head did.
“Did what I think happen just happen?” Tom asked.
“I think you should have eaten one less piece of pie,” I said.
“Or thirty less dumplings.”
“Or cut out the third helping of stuffing.”
We got out of bed and surveyed our sleeping mishap. The bed frame had lost it’s ability to hold the cross-bar. It was broken, and it needed repair. However, it was already ten o’clock. Lizzie was asleep, and the other two were winding down. Surely, we were not going to take out hammers and try to fix the bed? How could our brains function– personally, the tryptophan was making me feel woozy.
We needed a solution. Remembering the days of yore, we decided to do next best thing, we moved the mattress to the floor, and went to sleep college style.
We cuddled in, and it was cozy. It was so comfortable, I slept until almost nine o’clock. Tom, however, did not. While many Northeast Ohioans were indulging in their second cup of coffee and enjoying their whirlwind Black Friday shopping experience, Tom was on his way to Lowe’s. He had a plan of attack, and he needed some supplies.
When he got home, he told me to leave him alone. He went to the garage and brought in his drill, a saw, and some nails. He had his bag from Lowe’s, and he headed upstairs. For over an hour, he practiced the duties of a carpenter. Every so often, he would walk downstairs looking slightly perplexed. After a few minutes of pacing in the kitchen, he would return to the bedroom with a new resolve.
For a measly $5.28 and a great deal of ingenuity, Tom fixed the bed.
We will sleep well tonight!