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Morning Adventure

O, ye of little faith: Never doubt my spatial problem-solving capabilities.

This morning I borrowed drmellow's truck and drove to High Point to pick up my bed and nightstand from the Stickley showroom. The store wanted to charge $150 to deliver it the 20 miles to our house. Thanks, but no.

"How is it packaged?" I asked yesterday, while talking to the rep on the phone. She assured me that it would fit in my truck; the bed was in three boxes (headboard, footboard, rails) and the bedside table was blanket-wrapped. Excellent, I thought to myself. She also promised that there would be someone there to help me load the items around 10am.

I threw some quilts and rope in the cab, and headed out about 9:30 this morning. The promised help was waiting for me in the lobby upon my arrival. I signed for my purchase and the receptionist instructed me to pull around to the dock; she even let me out the side door. Things were looking good until out in the parking lot, when the help said, "I hope you brought a tractor trailer."

When we got around to the dock, I saw what he meant. The bed was in one large box. A box the size of...well, a queen-sized bed. The bedside table was in a box, too. The size of a bedside table. The guy took one look at my 6-foot truck bed and shook his head. I looked at that big box and thought, Heck, yeah! That'll fit!

Mr. Guy, obviously dismayed that I even wanted to attempt loading the stuff in 90 degree heat, said, "OK. Here's what I'm going to do. I'll put the box with the table in first and slide it up toward the cab. Then we'll try to put the bed behind it. But I think you'll have to have it delivered."

I wasn't buying the plan. The bed box was several feet longer than the truck bed to start with, and loading the table first was going to eat up another 2.5 feet. I made the guy a deal: If I could fit the table box in the cab, would he attempt to help me load and tie down the bed? Sure. (Five minutes later, he was regretting our deal, no doubt.) About this time, the manager for the huge showroom across the parking lot came out to witness the spectacle. He had seen us from his office window and decided to come out and laugh at us offer a hand. (The two guys knew each other, apparently.)

Table snug behind the passenger seat, I wanted to open the bed box to assess the contents. And whaddya know? The rails were in another box by themselves (that laid flat in the truck bed, without even extending beyond the lowered tailgate), and the head and footboard were wrapped well enough that after swathing them in blankets, they propped nicely in the bed, too, with only the foam-padded posts sticking out about 4 inches to the side. Mr. Guy and his friend were so impressed with my engineering that they offered me a job, tied everything down for me and I was on my way.

Here's where my catering experience benefitted me: I took the back roads home through Jamestown--I keep meaning to go mess around in their pretty little historic district someday--and avoided the Interstate.

drmellow showed up for lunch just in time to help me carry the last piece into the house, and now I have yet another disassembled bed sitting in the living room. At least this one doesn't have a mattress with it; I thought the last one was going to become a permanent TV-watching fixture.


The Inimitable Miss M

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October 2009


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