Sleep is lame, but sleeping six feet above the ground is the most exciting thing in the world, at least according to my kids. For years, my ten and eight-year-olds, Betsy and Mae, have begged me to bunk their beds. They normally sleep in individual twin beds that could be stacked on top of each other like a cushy Voltron. The main reason it never happened was me. I didn’t see any reason to stack their beds when they had plenty of floor space in their shared room. Plus I’m lazy. That combination of logic and lethargy is the one-two punch that can stop any project before it starts. But this weekend, I accidentally set off a chain reaction that led to us trying to move or replace half the furniture in the house. In the flurry of redecorating that followed, I finally bunked those beds, which should have been the easiest household task I’ve ever done. Now for two thousand words on how everything went wrong.
As with everything else that happens in this house, the actions of this weekend were…
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