We Get Our Stuff From Storage!

Episode 1

In which EGB cries over a box spring

Yesterday, an enormous tractor trailer arrived with our stuff. I was so excited about our stuff. I've been dreaming about having stuff once again, after having lived the minimalist lifestyle for nearly (over?) two months. Since leaving Columbus, J and I have been making due with a futon, a table, four chairs, three TV trays, a computer, 4 plates, cups, bowls and silverware settings, a TV, and an ugly-ass dresser that the previous tenant that we were subletting the POS flophouse from decided to leave behind for us in the POS flophouse.

Lately, I have been dreaming of couches. A comfortable place to park my (it didn't used to be this big, did it?) booty was all I wanted in the world. Then, in the last week, as the futon began giving up the ghost--it's been making ominous noises as I roll over, and I've been up at night figuring out what J and my combined weight might be doing to the metal frame that was already bent before this little exercise in minimalism--the idea of sleeping in a bed, a real bed, has become something I imagine will makes the heavens part and the angels sing.

So, I was understandably quite excited to have the three gentlemen show up yesterday with a truck full of our stuff.

Then they began to unload it.

How in holy flaming hell do two individuals who are not really materialistic types own so much stuff? And we haven't even added in the baby gear/accessories/necessities for making sure he makes it into Harvard in 18 years. There were pieces of furniture that I had forgotten we owned! (How does one forget furniture?)

Well, I got my beloved couches, and I directed the placement of our stuff from the comfort of a cozy little couch nest, and all was well for much of the day.

Then, they unloaded our bed. We have a queen size sleigh bed. The sleigh part comes in handy-dandy pieces that are easily moved and reassembled. The mattress is nicely squishy and can make it up narrow, built-in-1940s staircases in a single bound. And then there's the box spring. The box spring--which is necessary lest the mattress fall through the bed slats--does not like our staircase. The three gentlemen pushed the box spring right and pushed it left. They tilted and turned, pulled and prodded. It became clear the box spring would go up the stairs, but not without damage to the floors, walls, and itself.

Okay, no problem. They make split queen box springs. J and I will jump in the car and visit one of the numerous mattress stores in the Lafayette area and rectify this situation. I will still be able to sleep in a real live bed on the same night we receive our stuff.

(Now, I should probably examine this assumption. I tend to believe that just because I need something and now would be a good time to have it, that it will be readily available and easily accessed. This assumption has made an ass of u and umption several times.)

We went to Kittle's. It would be Saturday before we can get our precious box springs. (J and I also visibly aged in the amount of time it took the commission-desperate-sudoko-playing schlubby salesman to look up the price and availability). J has little patience for retail stores, particular the kind that cater to the greatest number of individuals possible--i.e. the lowest common denominator. He was ready to call it a night at that point in terms of looking for our box springs. I, who am now 9 months pregnant and no one to be reckoned with even without the hormones when I am on a quest, insisted that we go to another store.

Commission-hungry salesman at store #2 told me it would be Saturday before we can get box springs. He checked the back room just in case, even though everyone knew there was no way that some split queen box springs had magically appeared back there. But we shared a hunger--me for a good night's sleep and him for a commission.

At this point it was 8 pm. I got back in the car, knowing that J had had enough and would not want to check any other stores. I started to cry. I wanted a bed, gosh darn it, and I was going to have to sleep poorly for another night on a futon--let alone how long it would take to get the new box springs.

My sweet and very patient husband then took me to dinner. When we got home, we made a nest for ourselves on the two new couches. I actually slept through the night.

This morning, after calling around to several stores, I found a place with the box springs in stock and for cheap. We're going to get them after J gets off work. I don't know if the stress of finding them was worth the woo-hoo moment, but it felt pretty sweet in any case.