The point of this is that I really like antiques. And I like wine.
The Hometown Historic Society has an annual benefit that used to be called Antiques and Wine. Now, it's called Perfectly Aged. The first time I saw the invitation, I called Husband and said, "What about this doesn't have US written all over it?!" We went. We bought a desk. Zingo took us home. It was super fun.
This is our first time back in three years and we were obnoxiously excited about Antiques and Wine/Perfectly Aged. Bennie and LMC made plans to have a spend the night party at my parents house. Husband and Wife programmed in a cab number in the cell phone.
My mom dropped us off at The River Room.
We're classy like that.
Since we're being honest, let's just throw all the cards out on the table. We were consuming copious amounts of wine. For a good cause. Let's be clear-- it was for a good cause. Historic Hometown saves buildings and has amazing amounts of information about this place we call home. Besides, they're just really nice people. So, we were drinking for a good cause.
It was really great, too. They had a huge silent auction and there were pens at every lot. We made the rounds seeing what items were out there what we might need as we sipped.
Lot 22, for example was a South Georgia bird hunt, valued at $7500. Well, we had to have that. Boom! $550 down (thank God we didn't win that).
Lot 322 was custom silk drapes from an "established Augusta home and hand made by a well-known blah blah blah" valued at $1300. I needed those, because the cornice boards I made for our living and dining room looked... um... stupid. BOOM! $100 down (we didn't win those, either.)
Lot 45 was several sets of coins. Well, guess what? We needed those. Needed them. BOOM! $30 down. A few minutes later, some jerk counter-bid us at $35. BOOM! $40 down. Victory is sweet. We walked out with coins.
Lot 18 was a bucket of rum. No lie. A bucket of rum. There were five bottles bootlegged from St. Kitts. The opening bid was $70. It was valued at $250. Guess what? We had to have it. I put my name down in a the bold swipe of $70 with that ever-present pen. I checked it. I checked it again. It was in the corner, so surely, people just must not see this bucket of practically free rum. It was meant to be.
But, here was the problem. We found this other room off the main room and there was a beautiful bed right by the bar. There were no slats present, no mattress/box spring in it, but there were the measurements on the card for the 19th century Victorian bed.
"It's a queen," says Husband.
"It's a double," I counter back.
Whatever, we were taking this bed home. Valued around $1000 (my memory is a little hazy at this point), we open the bid at $100. More wine. More conversation. Lots of laughs. Good food. We check our bids.
Someone bid $150 on our bed. This bed was going to our Money Pit one way or another. We put $200 down and walk away. To the bar, for another glass of wine. Because, obviously-- we needed it. Wife says we can buy a double mattress. Husband says that it will fit our queen mattress just fine until we upgrade. But, we were agreed-- this bed would have a new home by the end of the night.
Long story short... we won the bed. $200 and the 19th Century Victorian bed was going to the Money Pit that we call home.
Lucky for all drivers on the road, we called that cab in our phone. We paid for the rum and the coins and sat down on the steps as we waited for our yellow and black checked ride. Husband had the bucket o' rum on his lap and we were laughing about the fact ... we bought a bed...
The cab came. The cabbie was not nearly as friendly as the DC cabbies we are used accustomed to. Husband started giving him directions to our house and said Grumpy Cabbie turned around and said, "Shhhhh. I'm on the phone. With a customer."
Dead silence in the background. Until we started laughing uncontrollably. This was unimpressive to the cabbie who dropped the hammer and we started to wonder if we were in better shape to drive than this guy. [we weren't]
The next morning found two Cagles with two headaches and a bucket o' rum on the kitchen table. Not to mention the coins in Husband's suit and the bed that needed a home.
Husband picks up the bed and we made the discovery that Husband was wrong... and so was wife.
This 19th Century Victorian bed does not fit a queen. It's too small. It does not fit a double. It's too big. We were starting to think ourselves like Goldilocks as we switched mattresses back and forth to see how bad off we truly were.
Our queen box spring was squared on the end and the end of the bed was rounded. Contrary to popular belief, you cannot put a square peg in a round hole. Husband heads off to Lowe's to build a box spring. Yes, you saw that correctly. He's building a box spring.
$150 later, Husband is in the backyard sawing, measuring, nailing, screwing, and creating a 350 pound box spring. A box spring that will fit in our new-to-us 19th Century Victorian bed. Upon completion, We schlep the 350 box spring through the door into the master bedroom where the bed has been assembled.
Back up, many children must have
We carefully raise the 350 pound box spring over the foot of the bed and drop it on the slats to raise the mattress enough to get it over the footing where it was too big. And then we drop it. On the bed where the brackets were undone. It shook and creaked, but it did not fall apart.
"Okay, I'm going to raise the box spring with my brute strength and you are going to shimmy underneath me to screw back in the brackets," Husband says.
"um, okay. orrrrrr.... what's Plan B?"
"This'll-be-fine-just-do-it..... errgggghhhhhh [brute strength failing].... okay, Plan B."
"Okay, Plan B," Husband says, "I'll just slide under the bed and screw these in brackets."
Oh. Duh. We'd figure that out eventually.
Fast forward hours later and I am sitting in my parents office regaling them with the wit and wisdom of our decisions from the past evening when, as if right on cue, my phone rings.
My parents hear:
"Oh? Wow! That's great!"
"Wonderful. Thanks so much for calling. I'll see you then."
That was my friend, Julia, who works at Historic Hometown and she said that we also won a bottle of wine. I need to pick it up tomorrow.
Cheers! Until next year!