Love — 1, Some Assembly Required — 0

Somehow, we've managed to enjoy ten years of happy marriage and perfectly respectable sex without ever owning a bed. It was just one of those priorities that never managed to claw its way to the top of the list. I sleep blissfully sandwiched between my husband and our son, three spoons in a drawer. Marking the boundaries above and below hardly seemed necessary. Besides, our mattress was manufactured in heaven. I climb on and barely have time to mutter a few words of sincere appreciation before I'm drooling daintily on our down pillows. Who needs a bed?

But I guess it's time. If we're going to sleep in a Family Bed like a couple of aging hippies, we should at least have the decorum to do it in a proper bed. And is there a better time than Valentine's Day to absolutely push your love to the brink of divorce? I can't think of one.

It wasn't buying the bed that challenged us. Buying the bed was a little miracle; we agreed on the first one in the first store. In retrospect, that should have been a clue. Nothing is that easy. The hard part was lurking quietly in the shadows, mocking our solidarity, waiting to pounce, smug in its invincibility.

Some Assembly Required.

Oh, it was good. It took a minute or two for Some Assembly Required to find our Achilles' Heel, but once it did, it chomped down mercilessly. After watching us strain gently to get the first three cumbersome boxes into the house, it had all the information it needed.



It bided its time until we got to the final, largest, heaviest box on the roof of the car. Then it lunged, pushing the box brutally out of our hands and onto our six-year-old's foot. The bastard.

After a few minutes kissing away tears, we redoubled our efforts and were back on track.



Some Assembly Required wasn't at all pleased that we got the boxes into the house without death or serious bodily injury, so it decided to fuck with our minds. While our backs were turned, it maliciously shredded several pages of the instruction book. All we were left with was a random list of hardware and a vague suggestion that we should make it all stick to each other.



And, for added fun, we should do it in an area that is actually several square feet smaller than the bed itself.



Oh, he almost had us.



Better luck next time.



The neighbors are having twins. We'll tell them to expect you.
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