A few weeks ago, when Zan was off skiing one Saturday, I decided to take a little time to rearrange the bedroom. I was at the end of my rope with winter and just looking for a change. I always decide to do these sorts of things on a last minute basis. One minute I’m propped in front of my computer waiting for my coffee to finish brewing, and the next, BAM! I’ve gone completely mad and everything is my room is being strewn about.
Why I did this by myself without Zan around to help me I will never know, but it went something like this:
Take all of the drawers out of the dresser, stack them in the dining room.
Collect junk from dresser into a paper bag.
Take the mattress off the bed, lean it up in the kitchen.
Throw all the bedding to the wayside.
Use my super strength to move everything to the opposite side of where it was before.
Rearrange the rug.
Bring in a comfy chair from the study.
Bring back in the dresser drawers.
Put the mattress back on the bed and the bedding all back together.
Admire my handy work.
Take pictures.
Send to Zanner.
Post to instagram.
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Proud of myself doesn’t even come close to how I felt. I was elated with our new set-up and my new found love of home handywork. Zan really liked the new change, too. Gave me a pat on the back, told me he was impressed. I must have done something wrong in the moving process though, because as soon as Zan got into the bed it broke and the entire thing came crashing to the floor.
Whoops.
There’s a slight chance I was the cause of that.
{I was most definitely the cause of that.}
It was one of those situations where all you can really do is laugh through the tears. And once you get over the tragedy of breaking your bed, an extended camp-out with your mattress on the ground is actually an okay adventure in the interim.
