In early June my husband and I finally agreed on the purchase of the new furniture we’ve needed for several years. We’ve waited to purchase it as we’ve paid for tuition, part of a wedding, a couple of wonderful trips, and my student loans. The pieces needed to be ordered and we were promised an early August delivery. We’d have plenty of time to paint before the new stuff arrived.
Our daughter, a recent college grad asked us to keep the current furniture for her first apartment, the one she’s getting in the future. We agreed and discussed putting the current worn set in our unfinished basement. Of course we’d need to clean the unfinished basement, but we’ve talked about doing that for years and I have the summer off, so it would be a perfect project.
July 5 we got the glorious call that the items were now available to deliver! 4 weeks early. The basement was still untouched, so much for that summer project. We had plans and a heat wave the days after the fourth of July, but I spent several hours sorting boxes of items retiring teachers had given me. I looked through units, resources and files, many files. I also sorted the things I’d saved from my time as a Library Media Specialist, and from the year I taught 3rd grade, and…. it looked like teacher’s supply store. I created piles of items for Goodwill, things for my classroom, stacks of materials to offer to the new 4th grade teacher and the big boxes of things for the paper recycling station. I created even larger bags of things I could no longer anyone wanting to use in a current classroom. My husband spent two of his vacation days in the basement with me as we sorted and tossed.
Finally the evening before the delivery date arrived. The lower level was vastly improved. A long suffering friend was willing to help move the overstuffed couch and loveseat down the stairs. Rather than try to negotiate the curve to the stairs the guys planned to take the couch and loveseat out the sliding French doors and around the house to the garage. The stairs would be straight ahead and no turn necessary. But the door was too small. We’ve remodeled and replaced our original sliding door with different doors, smaller doors since our original furniture purchase. After measuring and re-measuring all doors and a telephone consult with my brother in law we learned we’d have to take the door off the track. I swallowed my frustration as I saw a crow bar moving toward my freshly painted door trim.
The door was taken off its track, and with some muscle and determination the old furniture was out of the house. Our plans have changed. The furniture will be saved for our daughter, but they will not being going down our narrow stairs to the freshly cleaned basement. They will await the future first apartment at Grandma’s house, the one with the large access doors.