Cleavage Construction

Saturday I hugged my kid goodbye and put her on a plane with M so they could jet off to Argentina to visit his family.

I felt, I don’t know, empty. I’m used to waving goodbye to M, but to my kid? It was the strangest feeling. It didn’t help that she was sobbing her little heart out, her eyes all puffy and misery-ringed, her little arms wrapped tightly around me, not wanting to let go.

But she let go, and they made it safely across the ocean, leaving me here alone FOR TEN DAYS, TEN WHOLE DAYS.

And because I am alone for TEN DAYS, TEN WHOLE DAYS, I of course immediately raced out to Ikea and bought a bed. And even though we really only need 2 beds in our house, we now have 4. But Craigslist is my friend and I intend to recoup the cost of my apparent bed obsession, okay? So stop staring at me.

Anyway, my visit to Ikea was accompanied by Hoops, who coincidentally and quite gloriously conveniently is also single and kid-free this week, as her own husband and daughters jetted off to another country to see his family. PARALLEL LIVES!

After we got our Ikea sufficiently on, she not only transported the long-assed thousand pound box back to my house in her car, she also offered to help me assemble it. Who freakin’ does that? Only Friend of the Century types of friends that's who, and after last night, she is so totally the winner of that award, hands down.

Before coming back to my house, we made a pit-stop at Hoops’ house so she could unload her Ikea loot. She also changed her clothes and came out wearing saggy paint-stained shorts, but curiously left on her cute, low cut top, big blingy earrings, and was still carrying her snakeskin clutch. Total Polish Housekeeper Outfit.

We got back to my pad, and Hoops got to disassembling the kid’s current bed, while I slaved over opening a box of frozen pizza and pre-heating the oven. And, oh yeah, pouring glasses of wine. Once the bed was taken apart, we carried it out piece by piece to the garage, all the while cussing and stabbing ourselves a thousand times in the legs. The neighbor’s giant, grown son sat idly on the porch, watching us groan and sweat and drop F-bombs. He was really helpful with his watching.

After we snarfed the pizza and downed the wine, we got down to the business of building a bed.

Do you know what it takes to build a bed? DO YOU? Three and one half hours. That’s what.

Three and one half hours of lifting, and bending, and twisting and turning and leaning and holding and sweating.

And I was laughing my ass off the whole time because Hoop’s boobs were spilling out of her cute, low cut top, and Hoops was laughing at me because I was still wearing my tight mini-skirt with slits on each side, which kept riding up with every squat, and we were both wearing huge earrings and lip gloss. And as I watched us bring this bed to life, the idea came to me: Cleavage Construction! Beeyotch Builders! We will assemble your furniture in mini-skirts and heels and low cut shirts, and let you watch us bend and sweat as your furniture comes to life!

Tell me that’s not solid gold.

~Patti