When It Rains It Pours, Part 2

As I mentioned last week, we have been running into a lot of bad luck lately.

First I killed our fridge by wishing for a prettier one...

And then, we started the kid's bedroom projects.

Long story short.... we sold Boyfriend's first big boy bed (hold on while I sob into my keyboard... seriously, I was a freaking wreck over this)... in order to buy two twin beds for his room.

We needed two beds for his room in case we ever have guests, so Girlfriend can bunk in with Boyfriend.

Make sense so far??

Girlfriend is moving from the nursery (again, hold me... seriously, the amount of changes is killing my heart) into the massive guest room, because really, there is nowhere else to put her.

Girlfriend will get a Queen bed, not because she is a Queen, although she thinks she is... but because we need the bed to sleep two in case we have guests...


Okay, moving on.

I find two twin beds on Craigslist (of course) that can be bunked, or side by side.

We decide they will be perfect for Boyfriend's room.

I email the lady, make the deal, and set it up for Husband to pick them up on Saturday.

Mind you, I am no stranger to Craigslist and although I am always happy to get a good deal, I was slightly suspicious by how quickly the woman agreed to take $150 off her asking price.

*They had been listed for a month, she wanted $300, I offered $150 and she instantly said yes... hmmm.

Since we would be using my Dad's truck to pick up the beds, I decided to call my Mom's good friend who had offered us a mint condition twin mattress and box spring.

For one reason or another she bought it, and no one ever used it... and it was ours for free if we wanted it.

Anyway... we drive the hour to my parent's house, Husband gets my Dad's truck, picks up the new-to-us mattress, and then picks up the twin beds before making the trip home.

He mentions that the woman who sold him the beds was kiiiinda trashy... and that he couldn't see the beds well because, "it was dark."

Men. Seriously. Men.

This is where I should say two things: If you want something done right, you should probably do it yourself AND... if we had more money, none of this would have happened.

Sometimes it does not pay to save a buck.

We get the beds home and Husband starts to put them together.

And realizes that the "kiiinnnnda trashy," woman was actually super duper trashy and did not even give us all of the hardware to make the beds... beds.

So now we have basically $150 worth of fire wood that we can do nothing with, unless we want to go to Home Depot and ghetto rig the damn beds together.

Parents of the Year, right here.... ghetto rigging beds for their four year old... right??

So.... Husband calls the woman and she says she will look for the stuff.

Mind you, at this point we have realized that the beds are slightly broken in one part and Husband over paid by about $50.

He is trying to rationalize that it was dark as Hell and I am trying not to strangle him.

Twenty or so minutes go by and Husband says I should call the lady.

I basically tried to kill her with kindness while making her feel like complete shit.

It went like this: "Well... we have two little kids, with another on the way, and it's Christmas... we can't afford to pay $150 for something that doesn't work. And if we guess at what kind of hardware we need, we are putting our child at risk, because the bed could just fall apart ya know?? So, if you can't find the parts, we will be returning the beds to you, and expect our money back."

And she responded by calling me a whole bunch OF very un-Christmas-y names and hanging up on me.

So....It went well.

About 10 minutes later she texted me all, "Hey Hun!! Caught me at a bad time! Found the parts! Come get them!"

So back we go, 45 minutes, to get the parts for the damn beds.

Two hours later Husband has the beds built and functioning and everything is right in the world.

Until we go to put our brand new to us mattress into the bed.

Oh... you thought something would go smoothly??

Not a chance.

The twin mattress, was actually an EXTRA LONG twin mattress.

Which means it didn't fit the new beds for beans... in fact, it was six inches too freaking long for our new to us wooden beds.

And this is where I told Husband that I wanted to change our last name.

Because I'll be damned if this one isn't helping us out much or cutting us any breaks.

He wasn't too keen on the idea, and I dropped the subject because I was like eh.... it's not that big a deal right?? We'll figure it out, right?

And we did.

We bought a different mattress, and Boyfriend already had two bedding sets (which don't match but whatareyougonnado) ... so we set up a sleep over for him and his Godmother and he was happy as a clam about the new bed situation.

 Eventually we will get him matching comforters, but for now the kid doesn't care and the beds are working out pretty damn amazing.

Which is good, because the rest of the house.... decided to pretty much explode all over itself the following weekend.

Not really, but kinda.

More bad luck to come, yay!

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