Enough about me... let's talk more about me

11.11.2003 How to Milk your Wife (Box three of three)

Alright. I really did want to write about milking my wife, but I think she would probably kill me, so the best I could do was just the title. But oh, wouldn't it be cool?

Fortunately, there are other things to write about.

One thing is not having a crib for Megan yet. Yeah, pretty unbelieveable. Unlike the first proposed topic, this one is more of an annoyance.

It's not like we didn't try to go purchase a crib, we did. And it's not like we didn't pay extra for delivery and assembly of the crib, we also did. But, it's more like we just don't actually *have* the crib -- or at least, all of it yet -- the infamous box three of three. More on this later.

We went crib shopping -- back in August. Yeah, that was like summer or something. Now, it's almost like winter.

Well, it all started one hot humid day in the summer while we withered around one of our new favorite stores -- who's unmentioned initials are B'RU (which stands for Babies 'R Us, but I didn't just tell you this ). As usual, we wobbled around the store, with Elizabeth eight months pregnant, carefully selecting items off of shelves that we thought we would need -- baby wipes, breast pumps, little outfits, stuff like that. At the time, everything we were buying required a little imagination. We would just guess at what their uses were. Some were more obvious than others.

And then, we stumbled upon the furniture section - a labyrinth of cribs and dressers neatly arranged in the middle of the floor alike an oasis in the middle of a desert. We salivated and quickly, we stowed the shopping cart aside to revisit later as we gleefully browsed among the new found land. "This one. Oh, that one. Oh, oh, that one," Elizabeth repeated over and over.

We weren't sure how to really look at cribs. I just sort of kind of imagined a baby laying playfully in the middle of it cooing and laughing, and then me trying to reach in the crib to pick her up. I figured if I could do it without smashing my hand lowering the railing and wrenching my lower back bending into the crib, it passed the litmus test. Of course, then there was the aesthetic factor -- smooth curvy lines. Oh nice crib. Thanks. Umm.. maybe a guy thing.

Finally, we stood in front of this neato crib-dresser contraption that we weren't sure how it worked, but it looked interesting enough and was highly functional. It was a crib, and it was a dresser, and it had a tabletop surface for those special oh-sh*t-where-do-I-put-this moments.

We hustled over to the salesperson's desk and asked for the funky crib. It depended on availability they told us, checked in the back, and noted they had to order it.

We then went home and waited patiently and as promised, ten business days later, the phone rang.

A sweaty buldging belly guy with butt-crack jeans showed up and started assembling the crib in our spare bedroom. He was actually a really nice guy and for some reason took a real liking to me -- I think because I offered him a Coke. I'm not really sure why else. (I'm not sure if I want to know).

The crib came in three boxes. There was a base, the side railings, and the funky dresser tabletop part. All was well until he opened the last box. The box with the funky dresser tabletop part, later to be infamously known as box three of three. The contents of box three of three consisted of a nice wooden dresser ... with a bashed in sideboard. Yeah, someone wasn't very happy that day at the manufacturing plant, and it looked like he took it out on box three of three.

Nonetheless, the happy delivery-assembly-butt-crack guy took it back and told us that a new box three of three can be retrieved from the store and brought back the next day - of course, depending on availability.

Yes, this was back in August.

Box three of three hasn't been available since. Almost every week since then, I've been calling the store to find out if box three of three has even come in yet. I have to admit, as the calls wore on, the responses I received have grown more and more annoying.

Anyhow, more on this later. I'll keep you posted.

Instead, we have this half assembled funky crib in the spare room and Megan has been lounging out with us on our King size cradle. We carefully sectioned things off, so we're like three peas in a pod - she's been an adorable little sheet hogger.

(Postentry note -- the assembly guy was actually really nice. I was just pokin' fun.)

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...One thing is that no matter how old I am, I probably will not like being called sir or mister, for they have always seemed too far out of reach...




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