Deadwood

Today, I would like to offer you some advice. It might change your life, or even save it. You’re welcome in advance, and don’t ever say I never give you anything.

Here it is:

The single support leg in the middle of a wood bed frame is important. Use it. Don’t throw it away because it seems dinky and you question its effectiveness.

When I moved apartments, a six-inch piece of wood (that’s what she said) that haphazardly dangled (again, that’s what she said) from the centre of the frame to the floor was somehow separated from the rest of the bed. When I found it later after already re-assembling the bed, I went “Meh!” and tossed it in the garbage.

Fast forward to several weeks later. It’s my alma mater’s homecoming weekend. Some of my university chums visited for the weekend and we partied like champs. Well, as hard as champs nearing thirty can party. I do recall saying things like, “Oh dear, did we used to dress like that?” and “She’s going to catch a cold!” throughout the night. But by golly, I didn’t get home until three o’clock in the morning!!!

By four o’clock in the morning, my two girlfriends and I had finished stuffing our faces with after-bar food (actually, to be honest, I remember savagely attacking my friend’s leftovers from the night before, but I don’t remember my friends eating anything. Such a gracious host).

It was finally time for bed, but I was in the middle of drunkenly texting a friend something hilarious that couldn’t wait until a decent hour. I know, always the conscientious friend. I was very focused on the task at hand (alcohol plus tiny keyboard equals hard) but wanted to get comfortable, so I decided to plunge into the centre of my bed from the foot of the bed, my arms outstretched before me holding the cell phone like I was presenting Simba.

Note: The bed frame does not require a box spring, but I like to have a high princess bed. Hence, why I needed to physically JUMP onto the bed.

As soon as my body made contact, I hit a sweet spot and CRACK. BANG.

I lied before. Eating sunflower seeds in bed is NOT the most action my bed has seen. This was.

I broke the bed.

bed

After obnoxiously cackling loud and long enough to compensate for my embarrassment, I decided I couldn’t sleep like I was going upwards on a water slide and needed to fix the situation. I carefully and cautiously (ok, carelessly and sloppily) moved my box spring and mattress off the mangled bed frame, and shoved the kindling to the side of my bedroom. At four o’clock in the morning. Drunk. There were slivers. I just wish I had the cameras rolling to document it.*

*Wait a tick…are you saying you have cameras in your bedroom? Nevermind, you.

This is what I woke up to:

bed2

If I’m going to break a bed, I want it to be because I’m in the throes of passion with a John Krasinski/Jason Segel/Benedict Cumberbatch hybrid (tribrid?), not because I’m by myself and just flopped onto it.

The next morning, as I schlepped all the wood to the basement for future arts and crafts, I ran into my neighbour who lives below me. (Don’t worry, she’s cool. Just imagine if this happened in my old apartment…) She said her husband heard the bang and was at first alarmed, but then heard “girly giggling” and decided I was fine.

The best part:

I went online to see if I could purchase the same bed frame. (What?! It’s a perfectly fine bed frame!) What I learned now that I didn’t know before is that it’s only offered in two sizes: Twin and double.

It’s a bed frame for children.

Huh.

theVERYsinglegirl

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