Wednesday, 20 May 2009

101 Uses For A Bucket no.12

How on earth did I manage to break the bed on my own?? It's a sad tale and one that must be told.

It all started with a creak. The bed, it must be said, was not the best constructed piece of furniture in the first place. Merely turning over was enough to set off a symphony of squeaks and groans from its prematurely arthritic joints. As I am a light sleeper at the best of times (even the smell of shower gel can wake me up - as does someone using the intercom six floors beneath us) I was having my shut-eye interrupted to an irritating degree. And you can imagine the kind of orchestral accompaniment we were getting during our bouts of conjugal activity, it was seriously off-putting. I dread to think what Jorge, our next-door neighbour thought of it all. It may explain why his television is often turned up on the loud side.

As well as the creaking, the bed frame had a tendency to whack against the wall in moments of more frenzied activity and frankly, it was all getting on my wick. I ventured a suggestion to Theo that we might try turning the bed round to see if we could at least relieve some of the pressure on the wall adjoining Jorge's room, but he was non-committal.

So, left dangerously to my own devices one afternoon this week I surveyed the scene and decided I would carry out a little rearrangement, turning the bed at right angles to see if it made any difference. I figured there was just enough gap to achieve the job without unnecessary lifting or dismantlement so lost no more time.

It all went horribly wrong when the edge of the bed became wedged against one of the plug sockets. I gave it an experimental tug to see if that would be enough to get it past the obstruction, but unfortunately the bed frame merely slid over the socket and stuck fast. Still calm at this point, I decided to lift up that end of the bed as a way of completing the rotation. Unfortunately, that only served to wedge it more firmly still, digging a hole in the wall in the process and making an ominous cracking sound. Panic was now setting in. I tried wiggling and jiggling the bloody thing, at which point, disaster struck. With a resounding splintering crash, one leg broke off, removing a goodly chunk of plaster from the wall as it did so.

Well, at least the accursed thing was finally free. I numbly pulled it round and wondered what the hell to do about propping up the drooping corner. My eyes fell on our trusty bucket. The very thing. I placed it under the missing leg and hey presto! The bed's list became less of a precipice and more of a nursery slope. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Buckets are amazing things, thank the lord they were invented.

I confessed to Alex and told him we will replace the bed (and I will repair the wall). Luckily, he found it funny. "It was only a really cheap one from ****", he said, "It didn't cost much." No kidding.

Still, at least the frigging thing has finally stopped creaking. I've had much better kip ever since I broke it.

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