Framed

First I heard loud scraping noises, along with muttered cursing. Low talking and laughter was followed by a series of thumps and banging sounds. I could make out a few of the words: "Take the door off" and "It's too long" and (of course!) "That's what she said." I thought briefly about getting out of a warm bed to investigate, but then dozed back off to sleep. Towards morning, I could hear the pounding of a hammer, as if elves had come to build a house in the next room.

Yes, all noises indicated that my kids were involved in another middle-of-the-night project. I've learned from experience not to get up and investigate. Because really, it's always too late anyhow. No sense losing any sleep.

Earlier in the week, I had asked the kids to take charge of getting rid of our old couch. Sadly, our furniture tends to be so beat up by the time we are done with it that we can't even donate it to a good cause. Even places like the Rescue Mission don't want it. I used to think that this had something to do with the fact that so much of our furniture comes from the Rescue Mission in the first place, but I've since changed my mind and blame the cats. No one wants secondhand furniture that's been clawed and peed on. I know, it's crazy, but that's the way it is.

I did, however, think that Boy in Black might know some college-aged people who would want an old couch. He was the one who kept saying, "Why get a new couch? This one is FINE."

It turns out he had a better idea. During the night, the kids decided to carry the couch up the stairs and put it in the boys' room, where it could serve as both bed and lounging area in the already ridiculously crowded room. But the long couch would simply not fit up the stairs, even after they removed the door from the bathroom at the top of the stairs and the door to the boys' bedroom.

Undaunted, Boy in Black flipped the couch upside down and cut it in half. Then they carried it up the stairs in pieces, and inside the room, he rebuilt the frame and hammered it back together. By the time I saw the couch the next morning, it had been re-assembled in the boys' room, where it just barely fit, shoved up against the futon that's already there. Boy in Black, stretched out on the couch, was just going to sleep. He grinned at me sleepily. "Hope you like it. Because you can't get it out of the room now without cutting it in half."



"Don't worry, Mom," said Shaggy Hair Boy, "I borrowed your camera and took a photo for your blog."