Two nights ago I stayed up until two in the morning searching for Ikea hacks.
Yes, that is correct. I deprived myself of precious sleep to troll the internet for the most perfectly imperfect set of bunk beds I could find.
I’m in that seasonal state of flux that rolls around every 3-4 months. This time the feelings are even more urgent because ‘winter is coming’ (at least I don’t have to deal with white walkers – thank goodness!) and everything – our minds, our activities – turns inward.
I’m starting to notice that maze of boxes I left in the basement after a summer scavenger hunt; the piles of clothes that need to be sorted into bins after leaving the drawers to be filled with sweaters and fleece that -just-won’t-fit (at least if I want the drawers closed!); the clothing, supplies, books, toys . . . that my children are starting to outgrow that don’t need to be junking up the joint.
In this sorting and stowing maelstrom, the need for bunk beds in the room my middle and youngest daughters share is making itself vehemently known. As if the insistent reminders of my middle daughter would let me forget.
In my dreams – that’s right I said MY dreams – I would get a bunk with a rock wall to scale the top bunk, a slide to descend, and a secret nook below. If not for the problem of maintaining a marital bed, I think that would still be my ultimate dream bed – regardless that I’m supposed to be grown up. Alas, I don’t think my husband is looking to relive his days on a tight bunk on a Coast Guard ship. Besides, I can’t afford and/or justify the exorbitant price tag.
Bunk beds in the midrange are still overpriced for the level of quality the consumer receives. Wood? MDF with a veneer that looks sickly plastic? Weirdly placed slats and drawers? So I figured, since I’m not going to get what I want, I may as well make the price a little more tolerable.
But I’m stubborn and still trying for the extra storage and whimsical details of other bunks I’ve seen and so went searching for hacks to make my own. If my bedtime that night is any indication, I did not find one. Some of them looked like hacks. Some of them would work for a college student used to precarious positions, but not for my rowdy children (especially on the top bunk). Some of them included far too much carpentry for my tastes. So I guess that makes me lazy and cheap and incredibly hard to please.
I almost broke up the marital bed even without my dream bunk because my husband was none too happy with me when I finally crawled in. Call it my seasonal nesting, I could not rest until I’d found a solution (or given up in defeat that morning). It’s driving me nuts that the current system is not working and yet I can’t find a satisfactory replacement.
Then the neon postcard from a local charity came in saying they would be making the rounds soon to collect. That’s all I needed. I went into hyperdrive, stockpiling all I could to clear it out!
If I can talk my father into going to Ikea with me while you’re at work, I can get the bunk and we can break down the crib and donate that. And the mattress. And the crib sheets and the crib set . . .
Maybe it’s reverse nesting. But that’s another post.
If you’ve learned nothing else from this post: Know that bunk beds are ridiculously overpriced and one should not shop for one during a seasonal stir-up or under the effects of extreme sleep deprivation. Happy Purging and Dreaming!