The Odd End Table

I think I wrote about this a while back but I’m not sure and I’m too lazy to go check.   I do this thing where I talk about something and I write about that same thing and sometimes I do both.   And I don’t always remember if I wrote about it and then talked about it in more length as a result after friends read the post or if I didn’t write about it but only talked about it or if I just casually mentioned it as a facet of the day when I was writing about something else.   But seeing as I’m lazy and don’t feel like researching post history, I’m just going to forge on.

We have a bedroom in our basement.   It was an additional bedroom to the number of bedrooms we had in our prior house and therefore we needed to get bedroom furniture.    I looked around for a while and then settled on something that I liked the moment I saw it.    I work that way—I either like it or I don’t.   I either know it’s the thing for me, or it’s definitely not.   Basically, I don’t dither when it comes to decisions.

The bed, nightstand and dresser with mirror were ordered.   I got a mattress.   It all was delivered and I added the necessary bedding and lamps to make the room functional as a guest bedroom.    And then I didn’t think much more about it for seven years.    Then I noticed something.    Why was there only one night stand when there was room for two?   What was I thinking when I bought the set?

I tracked down the manufacturer, found the specific bedroom set and ordered an additional nightstand from a regional company.     Today the nightstand arrived.   Delivery, including putting it in the room, signature on the paper and time for the delivery men to go to the bathroom totaled five minutes.

Now the room is better.   Now two people can stay in the room and one of them doesn’t have to put their phone/book/tablet on the floor before they go to bed.

The Big Boy Update:  My son told my parents, “did you know Q and U are married?   But Qdoba was written before they got married.”   He’s been learning about letters that commonly go together.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:   My daughter is seeing fairly well, but sometime she has trouble.   Two nights ago as we were about to get into the car my daughter was heading straight into the car door.   I yelled at her to stop, but she clocked her forehead (fortunately not her left, functional eye).   She was very upset.   But by the time we got home she didn’t even want an ice pack.    She was mostly mad at me for not warning her.   I told her I had tried.   Believe me, I tried.   The last thing I want is for her to run until a heavy, metal door.