Last week, we bought a day bed for your nana to sleep on in our apartment. As I previously stated, we did not purchase it from IKEA because I would likely still be putting it together on Christmas Eve. So we bought it from a friend.
I hopped in my car to head over to pick it up, thinking that I could just take it apart, put it in my car, and head back to our place. I think this because I sometimes live in HappyHappyDreamLand, where everyone rides across rainbows on the backs of diamond-speckled unicorns and if I need to fit something in my car, it fits because if there’s diamond-speckled unicorns, then anything is possible.
Unfortunately, we do not live in HappyHappyDreamLand. We live in Arcadia, and the day bed would not fit in my car. So me and your Uncle G, we had to haul it 6 blocks. It doesn’t sound like that much, but again, this is HappyHappyDreamLand talk. Carrying a bed 6 blocks is not easy.
This is for a variety of reasons. Number one being that beds are not light. The second being that we were doing this at 8:30 on a Friday night. Arcadia isn’t exactly South-Central, but some strange things go down here. Last year, hoarders lived next door to us and had the police called on them at least once a week for noise complaints. A girl in our apartment had a nervous breakdown last month and was screaming at the top of her lungs that someone was going to kill her. Someone DID kill somebody down the street in January.
And now we were hauling furniture 6 blocks from their apartment to ours. We stopped every hundred feet to rest. At the end of the 2nd block, a little girl walking with her mom attempted to hop on the bed at the light, saying she was “too tired” to keep walking. At the end of the 4th, we hear a bottle breaking on the street ahead of us.
This is…new. How to move a day bed past a house with a guy lurking in the front yard sipping on 40’s? Our plan is simple. We don’t walk past the house. We walk in the street, going into oncoming traffic. To make matters worse, every couple hundred feet we have to go into the street again because the streetlights block the sidewalk. Then there’s the sprinklers. I thought we were in a drought? Apparently not in Arcadia.
By the time we get the bed home, it’s close to 9:30. My arms are stretched out a foot from all the heavy lugging and my hands are swollen into a steady clamp that lasts a whole day. I’m thirsty and all I want to do is eat a chicken mcnugget.
I never felt so alive, Blue. Moving furniture is good for the soul.