We have a four-poster bed, which up to this point has had a metal canopy. Very nice, and all that, but after our visit to Williamsburg this past summer, The Squire decided to replace the metal frame with a wooden one, which he started on Friday. Much measuring, sawing, staining, and drilling. The old metal framework was dismantled and stacked in the corner between a closet and the door.
We have lived in this house since we got married, and the bedroom furniture is exactly where it has always been. To this day, I cannot get from my side of the bed to the door in the dark – a straight shot, by the way – without walking into something. The base of the cheval mirror, the corner of my dresser, the cedar chest, or the bed itself. I have even overshot the mark and crashed into the nightstand. A week or so back, I walked into the corner of the abovementioned closet and gave myself a fairly tidy shiner.
So – last night I had to get up around 2 AM, and staggered into the stack of metal rods from the canopy frame. It sounded as if I had tossed a half dozen metal buckets down the fire escape. The dog began barking, and I stubbed my toe opening the door.
And The Squire slept through the whole thing.