Yes, I Live on the Third Floor

So, I think I did something not-so-smart this morning. To be fair, I was having a hurried morning (i.e. I don't know that I can be blamed for my actions). I kept dropping my blow dryer. My jeans were taking forever to dry. And, the humidity level in Houston has reached 127%, so my flat iron was having to work overtime. It was just one of those mildly frustrating mornings.

When I then spilled a glass of water all over my bathroom counter, that kind of tipped me over my breaking point. I marched into my room and flung myself on the bed. I use the word flung here to describe my action, but I should probably be truthful and explain that it was more of a flying leap rather than a fling.

(I must pause the story right here to clarify something. My bed sits on a set of those "As Seen on TV" bed risers. Unfortunately, this is important to note.)

So, as I fling myself onto my bed out of frustration, it very quickly becomes apparent that the legs on my bed were pretty near the edge of the bed risers because E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G. comes crashing down. Risers on the foot-end of the bed tip over, 2 of the bed legs hit the ground, and a very loud crash resonates through the apartment complex (or at least through the two apartments below me, because yes, I live on the third floor).

Once I recovered from the shock of the collapse. I did my best attempt at being a structural engineer and determined that everything was okay. However, I can't help but think that tonight as I lay in my now structurally challenged bedroom, there may very well be a reenactment of "The Money Pit" scene where multiple floors give way to the bed.

Hmm...maybe I should sleep in my car tonight.