Hanging like a tea bag…

I donated 12 bags of toys, clothes, books, movies, shoes, etc this weekend.  There was so much stuff in my car that the sweet volunteer at North Raleigh Ministries (http://www.northraleighministries.com/thrift-shoppe) asked if we were moving.  Nope, being a hoarder is one more thing I found in my closet today.

After the weekend liquidation, the kids and I got their rooms clean.  Not the usual stuff-under-the-bed-and-junk-collected-in-the-corner “clean”, we’re talking Clorox clean.

When I got home from work yesterday, I peeked in the daught’s room to enjoy the view before it gets torn up again.  She has a bunk bed and sleeps on the top bunk, of course.  The young love to climb into bed, the old prefer to fall into it.


Her covers were thrown all over the bed like she had been salsa dancing in her sleep so I climbed the ladder to straighten them up a bit.  I was leaning over the bed at the hip, cussing under my breath at the tight sheet corners when I felt the ladder slide away from the bunk and hit the floor, leaving me hanging like a tea bag over the edge.

One deep breath and a leg swing later, I rolled over on my back, no longer just muttering the cussing.  I looked over the bed and wondered, again, why double-decker sleeping appeals to children.

I sat up and had the conscious thought not to jump off the bed because I would hit my head on the ceiling.  So I tried to hop-slide off, smacking my tail bone on the ledge, sending a lightning bolt up my spine and taking my attention off a Mary Lou Retton landing, causing me to fall even further to hit the floor on my wounded toushy.

Please try not to choke on your coffee from laughing at the old lady doughnut I’ll be sitting on today.

Lesson here – kids need to make their own beds and grown ups belong on the bottom bunk.







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