Last night, for the first time in 10 weeks, Eliza climbed the ladder into her own loft bed.
For two and a half months she's been a vagabond ...
She had two weeks away at two different camps this summer.
(We did our pack-out during the first week she was gone.)
She followed her fortnight of sleeping bag slumber with a week on a mattress she shared on the floor with Mills during our last week at The Bungalow ...
There was a week at in InterCon in downtown Düsseldorf
where she bunked up with Bea under high thread count duvets ...
(before downgrading to the utilitarian rental bed that fit her needs, but wasn't her own.)
Three weeks ago our shipment arrived. And we rejoiced. We unearthed reminders of home and favorite things, most of which were no worse for wear after its voyage across the Atlantic.
Unfortunately, the hardware for Eliza's loft bed was no where to be found. It was either accidentally discarded by an overzealous unpacker on this side of the Atlantic, or carelessly sent to storage by a less motivated packer on the other side. My bet is that its buried in a storage unit in Peoria.
Lack of hardware meant Eliza could not utilize her bed until suitable replacement hardware could be found and a handyman (supplied by the moving company) could be located.
A handy man was located. He came and surveyed the situation (and evaluated other pieces that sustained damage in shipment.) He snapped pictures, took notes and promised to return. He finally did, after acknowledging it was difficult to find the parts for the Chinese bed that came from Chicago and has been twice fully disassembled on an equal number of international moves.
{Quick Aside:: Said handy-man looked nothing like I thought he would. He was tall and skinny --think Mick Jagger (he even share a similar surname). He had pointy shoes, stringy long but thinning hair, and eyes that googled behind glasses with an intensity that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing. I surreptitiously snapped a few pictures of his arrival and when I saw his tool kits I suddenly realized he reminded me in some way of a younger, more German version of the artist who repairs Woody in Toy Story II}
Thankfully he proved equally skilled, and our resident junior higher (although her International school describes her otherwise -- According to them, she is a Senior School student in the Middle Years Program) has her bed back.
Unfortunately, the hardware for Eliza's loft bed was no where to be found. It was either accidentally discarded by an overzealous unpacker on this side of the Atlantic, or carelessly sent to storage by a less motivated packer on the other side. My bet is that its buried in a storage unit in Peoria.
Lack of hardware meant Eliza could not utilize her bed until suitable replacement hardware could be found and a handyman (supplied by the moving company) could be located.
A handy man was located. He came and surveyed the situation (and evaluated other pieces that sustained damage in shipment.) He snapped pictures, took notes and promised to return. He finally did, after acknowledging it was difficult to find the parts for the Chinese bed that came from Chicago and has been twice fully disassembled on an equal number of international moves.
{Quick Aside:: Said handy-man looked nothing like I thought he would. He was tall and skinny --think Mick Jagger (he even share a similar surname). He had pointy shoes, stringy long but thinning hair, and eyes that googled behind glasses with an intensity that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing. I surreptitiously snapped a few pictures of his arrival and when I saw his tool kits I suddenly realized he reminded me in some way of a younger, more German version of the artist who repairs Woody in Toy Story II}
Thankfully he proved equally skilled, and our resident junior higher (although her International school describes her otherwise -- According to them, she is a Senior School student in the Middle Years Program) has her bed back.
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