About That Bed

As I mentioned earlier, my bed broke over the weekend. Completely broke. Beyond repair. You know, the one I bought at IKEA five years ago. The one that's made from a couple a chunks of MDF and a few scant sheets of birch veneer, shaved so thin that the only way they could have achieved such a gauge is to have done it with a deli slicer. Shocking that it broke. I know.

Not that I was expecting it to live for a hundred years and be passed down to my children and grandchildren (like the dresser I am cursed with currently possess as a third-generation owner) ... But still. I thought it would at least get me through my twenties.

Here's how it happened. I had some friends in town over the weekend, and we were all hanging out in my bed. I think we all pile into my bed because it's the coziest place in the house. As far as comfort goes, my mattress is beyond heavenly. Meagan, Kristin and I were sitting there chatting when our friend Hadley walked into the room. Now, Hadley weighs all of 100 pounds soaking wet. The very nanosecond that she placed her skinny little knee onto the mattress, the entire bed busted in half and the mattress went plummeting to the ground below. It was hilarious.

Here's the proof. That's one pathetic, broken bed.

I was left with the predicament of having to host another set of guests this weekend, and having nowhere for them to sleep. And also having no budget for a new bed. What to do?

I turned to the makers of the bed that just busted. Yes. I know. "Fool me once" ... yada yada ... WHO CARES! Their beds are cheap. And cheap is good. (Right gramps?)

On Sunday Aunt M, La and I drove out to Schaumburg for an IKEA run. The minute I stepped into the bedding section, I fell in love with this gorgeous specimen:

It even has a pretty name. Lillesand. Maybe I'll name my next daughter after it. And at $150, I was sold.

Turns out, the lovely Lillesand is the only bed made by IKEA that does not come entirely disassembled and crammed cleverly into a 3-foot by 3-foot box. This one's made of sturdy metal, and therefore comes welded together. It requires virtually zero assembly (bonus!). The challenge it does pose, which we've never had to deal with during previous IKEA runs, is HOW THE HELL DO WE FIT IT IN THE HONDA?

Aunt M was all about just tying the darn thing to the roof from the get-go. But have you ever seen that string they give you at IKEA? Think dental floss. DENTAL FLOSS! Dental floss that happens to be securing a metal bed onto your roof, keeping the thing from flying off your car and killing an innocent driver ... All while you navigate the 90-mph lanes of the Eisenhower Expressway THROUGH CHICAGO, home to the craziest drivers in the world.

No way.

Aunt M and I spent a good fifteen minutes trying to cram it into the car any way that we could. It was a half of an inch too large to fit into the back seat, and about 3 inches too wide to be crammed into the trunk. Finally we came to the conclusion that the only way we could get it home was to put our faith in the floss.

Some lady thought it was really funny that the two of us were having such a hard time with this bed. She didn't offer to help us. She did, however offer to take a picture. We look like whack-a-moles.

We secured that bed as well as we could, wrapping the floss around the bed, through the car doors, and all the way back around the bed at least six times, so that the strings were above our heads when we drove. We also tied it to the front bumper and a few other spots on the car.

The whole time we were tying the bed to the car, La was sitting in her car seat, shaking her head, and repeating the words, "I. AM. SO. EMBARRASSED." over and over. I really felt for her. I've been there. We've all been there. I guess it's kind of like how my brother felt in middle school when my mom and dad pulled the minivan into the Aldi parking lot in order to dig a "nice, big, quality" cardboard box out of a dumpster. Except not AT ALL like that, now that I think about it.

Then we drove off, clutching the strings above our heads to anchor the bed to the roof.

I can now say I know how it feels to be a true hillbilly.

We didn't drive far. Our tummies were rumbling, and I had a gift card, so we stopped at P.F. Chang's for some grub. We sat outside because it was gorgeous out, and also so that we could ward off any rooftop bed snatchers who may come a-prowling.

Then, because we already felt like a bunch of hilljacks, we drove the car across the street to the cinema and caught a movie. Yes, we saw A Christmas Carol while my bed sat strapped to the roof of my car.

Then came the VERY SLOOOW drive home with our flashers on the whole way. We were technically going the speed limit, which is 55 on the Eisenhower, but in "Chicago" speed, we might as well have been sitting there with our parking break on reading a road map. It really felt like we were going zero miles per hour. Hence the flashers. There were a few tense moments and one really loud clank that forced me to pull over to the side of the freeway. But, we made it.

Isn't it wonderful?

I love it.

Thanks to Aunt M for being such a help during the retrieval. I don't know if I could have pulled that off on my own.