I spent a goodly amount of last night preparing my room for rearrangement. My bed, which was too high, (srsly, I pulled something a few months ago trying to hoist myself into it) was to be de-box-springed and be-slatted. Bulky Item Pick-up had been arranged for early this morning so cleaning and vacuuming ensued.

At the appointed time, I wrestled the mattress off the plateau which had served as my bed for over a year. This was not as easy as it might be – the mattress is memory foam, which is both heavy and non-rigid. It flopped about malevolently as I attempted to remove it from the frame and then lean it against the wall. Eventually, it leaned against the opposite wall I had intended, but at least it leaned.

For the box spring, I enlisted De’s help. For some reason known only to jerkface mattress manufacturers, there were no grab handles on the box spring. Trying to pry the damn thing out of the frame without crushing my fingers was a challenge I hope never to repeat. Eventually we got it out and tetris-ed it through the narrow hallway and into the living room. I took a break to prepare a peanut-butter kong for Ardala so she wouldn’t get under foot. The dog pacified, we continued to scoot the ungainly base through the hallway when we were beset by another problem – how to get the thing into the elevator. It was too “long” to fit in the elevator, but too “tall” to tip up on it’s side in the hallway. There was much staring, shoving, cogitating and swearing. Since the box spring had itself been delivered through the selfsame elevator and hallway, I was determined that I could figure it out.

Luckily our next door neighbor, an architect, saw us struggling and explained how the box spring could be moved through 3 dimensions (canted towards us and then tipped up – hurrah!) and we were able to make it to the elevator and similarly able to unload it from said elevator, push it through the garage and up the driveway to lean it against a conveniently located palm tree. Sweaty and gross, we went back upstairs, where I excitedly unrolled my new slats onto the bed frame.

You know what’s awesome? When you realize you’ve been misusing your bedframe for over a year due to the upside-down installation of your side-rails. The center beam was a good 3 inches lower than the side-rails. Suffice to say, this configuration is not the most conducive to having an even surface to lay a mattress on.

I spent the night on the single mattress in the living room. The bed will be partially disassembled and reassembled (right-side up!) this evening. There will probably be drinking. But at least I learned something about myself. 1. in the event of future Ikea purchases, I will pay to have the Ikea people assemble the furniture. 2. I am now of the age that any atypical physical exertion requires the dose of at least one NSAID. 3. no matter how feminist you are, sometimes you have to be the re-inforcer of sexist stereotypes – in this case, spatial reasoning, which men are reputed to be better at. And maybe 4. eff that rancid “Girls” show about a bunch of spoiled dumbass white chicks in NYC, someone needs to film two middle-aged fatties trying to move furniture around. That shit would be funny as hell to watch. Call me, HBO!


2 thoughts on “Interlude

  1. wiredwizard says:

    =chuckles= Putting Ikea furniture is like a more complex version of building w/ LEGO. My friend got a set of bunkbeds from them for his daughter’s bedroom (one bed for her, one for her stuffed animal collection =rolls eyes=) and it took 3 of us most of a day to put the accursed thing together. It would have taken less time (and money) to build the thing from scratch…

  2. nerdycellist says:

    I’m no stranger to assembling flatpack furniture and I also hired a friend who is a handyman to help. It never occurred to either of us that the rails were upside down. But I’ve learned my lesson; anything more complicated than a Billy bookcase, or that will have to support my weight, will be assembled by the professionals.

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