Monday, July 29, 2013

Why I Hate Craigslist

My beloved
Some of you may recall that, last December (while Larry was busy wrecking our house), I indulged in a teeny bit of revenge shopping that involved my finally buying the IKEA bedframe I had been coveting for at least 3 years.  You know, the one Larry didn't like much, averse as he is to all things IKEA and most modern furniture.  Oh, we had tried to compromise for a while - he kept scouring Craig's list for what he thought were similar bedframes that he liked, leaving pictures up on my browser of heavy pieces of furniture, old-fashioned monstrosities of the type that someone's grandparents most likely drew their last breaths in.

Seriously, people, these pieces of furniture all but screamed COFFIN.  If you want to be depressed by the knowledge of just how much ugly furniture exists in this world, just browse Craigslist for an hour or so.  Make sure you have Prozac handy - you'll need it.

Cheaper than a bed frame
The upshot being that, despite having been married for over 20 years, we were sleeping on a mattress on the floor like 2 cohabiting college kids.  All we were missing were the cinder-block bookcase and the lava lamp.  This situation was bearable until Larry turned our living room into a construction zone, at which point I snapped and made a therapeutic trip to IKEA.

Where was I going with this?  Oh, yes, so now I should be happy, right?  I've got my bed frame, Larry put our living area back together, things are great.  EXCEPT one thing - every single night, I tiptoe into our darkened bedroom (Susie falls asleep in our bed every night, because we are lousy parents who can't even figure out how to make an 8-year-old fall asleep in her own bed and we are okay with our ineptitude, thank you very much) - I tiptoe into our dark bedroom and, without fail, slam my hip into the footboard of my long-desired Hemnes black-brown queen bed frame.

Every. Darn. Night.

Sometimes Larry is already in bed, asleep; and, awakened by my cursing, he smiles into the darkness (I can feel it, I swear) with a special sort of pleasure -- you know, that pleasure engendered by the knowledge that poetic justice does indeed exist, if you are but patient enough to wait for it.  He who laughs last, indeed...

[Lava lamp image: ThisNext]




7 comments:

  1. When my husband's snoring rips me out of the marital bed to stumble through the house towards a quiet sanctuary, I give thanks to the flashlight app on my phone!

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  2. I hurt just reading this, having slammed my thigh (I'm tall) into the bedpost on a regular basis. I was saved when we replaced our mattress -- those newer mattresses are tall enough that the posts at the foot of the bed match the height of the mattress. It was a trade-off: no more 4-post bed frame, but my thigh is no longer bruised.

    When I sneak in to bed late, I use Heidi's trick of the cell phone light.

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  3. I love the Hemnes line, but footboards are of the devil!

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  4. Hmm. And I suppose wrapping some foam around the offending bedpost would spoil the look of the thing? How about moving a laundry hamper or something into a position where it will remind you the bedpost is coming? You might wind up cursing about falling over the hamper instead, but it might at least deny some gratification to your smirking spouse.

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  5. I have that exact bed, I repeatedly slammed my hip into the footboard, I had bruises on the same spot for two months. A few months later a really rare tumor grew in that spot, which was basically scar tissue that didn't know how to stop growing. My leg is still healing from the surgery to remove the stupid thing. And I bumped into the bed during the day when I should have been able to see it.

    I can tell you that after three months your body should automatically move three inches over and you will stop hitting the footboard. Other than the tumor (I should write a blog post called Ikea gives you cancer) I love my bed! I even got the matching nightstands and dresser. IKEA rules!

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    Replies
    1. You have GOT to be kidding me. Please tell me you're joking. My hypochondria just switched into high gear.

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    2. The Ikea bed of DOOM.
      PS, have you read Victoria Elizabeth Barnes' HILARIOUS blog post about her experience with Craigslist? You will laugh so hard, you will forget all about beds that cause Cancer. http://victoriaelizabethbarnes.com/huge-victorian-antique-mirror/

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