Sunday, September 24, 2006

I hate broken beds.

While making my bed this morning, because my life is that thrilling, my toe banged into something just underneath the bed. When I investigated, I discovered that the hard wooden thing I'd kicked was the middle one of three slats holding the bedspring into the bedframe.

Now that I know this, I realize that it's just a matter of time before the other two slats collapse from too much pressure and the boxspring plunges downward into the floor. A whole foot! So now anytime I move, I do so gingerly and silently, so that I can hear the next creak of destruction. And living alone, I have no hope of remedying this until someone comes over, an event unlikely to occur until I buy another chair to supplement the one I already have. Otherwise we'd both have to sit on my bed and wait for it to die, or the guest would have to realize that he or she was only invited over as a laborer.

There are more exciting ways to break a bed.

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