We spent last Christmas working for free. I don’t even like working when I’m getting paid, but when the offspring are involved, a parent does what a parent has to do. Our daughter, Lunny, the one who just got married, wasn’t married last Christmas and had just finished having a house built. We offered to help move her in because “we ain’t broke out in brains.”  

On December 22^nd, the alarm was set for 3am so naturally I was awake at 2. Our plane departed at 5:30am, but couldn’t land in Reno due to fog. After circling like indecisive homing pigeons, we became low on fuel and landed in San Jose, fueled, and waited for Reno’s skies to clear. I’m an old woman with dry skin who likes to pee real regular. I texted the kids, “I’m feeling parched. This plane is removing the last molecules of moisture from my skin and depositing them into my bladder.” My kids don’t care about my petty problems.  

We got to Reno two hours late and Lunny and her beau, Will, retrieved us, but Will had to work early the next morning, so took Lunny’s car and left for his place 45 minutes away. He left us his truck, which should have been a distinctly clear clue that I should have hogtied him and took him along. 

Lunny had found furniture on FB Marketplace and the first bed we picked up was easy; ground level, pull it apart, throw it in the truck. Then, it got dark and cold as we drove for the next bed an hour away in Tahoe. I saw it was a condo with a long flight of stairs and might have said, “Oh, my lucky day” but I think I said something else. Remember we’d been up since 2am and it was now 7:30pm. We climbed the stairs, stepped through the door and the 30-something woman asked if we’d mind taking off our boots. No, but I told Gar to hang tight since he had boots to unlace, not just slip off. Thinking Lunny and I could get it, I scanned the bed, immediately realized it was going to be unfun, did a pirouette, and backtracked to tell Gar to take off his boots.  

It was an expensive bed, put together with 10,000 screws, and had 3 drawers on each side which we couldn’t get out. They wouldn’t budge. The woman was an oncology doctor, but obviously, medical school doesn’t teach drawer removal. We could have really used that skill. Lunny suggested taking some of the heavy bed apart and leaving the heavy drawers in. Ha, as in Ha, with no laughing. I scowled and put an H before the no. It was heavy, as in, if I didn’t have a hernia before, I’d be getting one for Christmas.  

As Gar began taking screws out, I stared into space wondering why we thought having children would be a good idea and could we leave her on a doorstep now for the stork to deliver somewhere else? I mean, wait, no, I was googling how to get drawers out of a bed. Then a lightbulb went on in Lunny’s head. She’d seen this type before. Smiling up at me, she moved something underneath, then tilting the drawer upward, she jerked hard backward. With a bang and a whoosh, that drawer popped out. The lady exclaimed, “Oh my gosh, you’re amazing.” Then she explained, “This bed was left here when we moved in and we wondered why. Haha.” I scowled inwardly, thinking the previous owners were like, “It’s not just the weight or the screws, we’re never moving this bed down that flight of stairs ever.” Duh.  

An hour and a half later, we had 3 bags of screws and 12 pieces of bed loaded. Before leaving us, Will had bought dinner and I felt bad at how much it’d cost. With him at home, and me hauling a horse down a hill, in the dark, at 20 degrees, I stopped feeling bad.  

If you’re wondering why we’d do this for a bed-it was a $1500 dollar Crate and Barrel, and it was costless. Lunny is very much her dad’s twin, mature and all that pointlessness, but now and then she show’s her mom’s genes and a free bed is all it takes to transpose a rational, college educated, gold medalist in all she does, into a weirdo chip off the old block.  

Merry Christmas to parents out there doing what good parents do.