It was a project weekend last weekend. It was nice to have the full 3 day weekend, with Columbus Day in there for us Gov't workers. The result was wonderful. As each night passes since last weekend I am reminded how really wonderful it is. To have a bed, not just a mattress on the floor but a real live bed, is truly a thing that defines 'home'. A mental shift has occurred that I didn't know would happen. I now feel at home in this apartment. I feel a sense of place I didn't know was missing.
Juan, thank you. This is craftsmanship. For those of you just stopping in, the backstory is that Juan flew up last weekend from paradise to the cold, wet Northwest with the offer to build a bed for me. I took him up on the offer. I'm not generally one to ask or expect, much less accept, offers of help. Maybe I'm getting wiser as I get older. Although that statement may be pushing the envelope. This bed is a thing of beauty, comfort and functionality. The entire frame and headboard knocks apart to travel flat. Ikea...eat your heart out. I have a one of a kind, made by a friend, expressly for me, perfectly measured and built bed. What's not to love?
Juan sliding in the finishing piece.
Life is good.
Juan, thank you. This is perfect. I mean that.