Part of beginning my art journey was the complete rearrangement of my bedroom furniture. I had not done anything with the arrangement in many years, despite the happy feeling I get from rearranging a room, due to mountains of clutter caused by pretty much every member of the household (including this one) and a general feeling of overwhelmed depression.
When my husband moved out, he took only a bookshelf or two in the way of furniture. As voracious a reader as he is, the house was (and largely still is) "decorated" with overstuffed bookshelves, so naturally removing and/or hiding a couple of the remaining bookshelves from the bedroom was a large part of reclaiming the room. I also enlisted my mighty (and generally wonderful) 13-year-old son to help me move my antique secretary into the room to serve as my workspace. In the process of finding a good place for dressers, bookshelves, and my secretary, I relocated my bed from the narrow end of the room to the longest wall by shoving it, foam mattress and all, across the unfinished (nearly century-old) pine floor.
Last night, after a late phone call, I pulled back the covers, ready to begin settling into bed. As I sat on the bed, I had the feeling I was sinking. After a more-than-cursory inspection, I noticed that the middle support was indeed out of place, with the bracket right next to the piece it was meant to support instead of cradling it and the leg at a 60° angle. After about three-quarters of an hour of mattress-wrestling and pulling on the frame while pushing on the support, I was finally able to put the frame back to rights, replace the mattress (having decided the bedskirt would just be disheveled until I change the sheets Saturday), and settle into bed with a feeling of accomplishment. Not only did I resist summoning my helpful teenager, I also banished the excessive creakiness (which had been evident for years) and the "walking" habit of my bed!
No comments:
Post a Comment