The crevice of hell

I can say this with certainty;  the makers of fine furniture DO NOT have small children.  If they did, they would not make cabinets, book shelves, dressers, couches or beds with spaces underneath them. 

Every toy in our house, every pacifier, every Lego, every ball, every puzzle piece will at some time, in it’s inanimate life, find itself under a piece of furniture in my house.

I am not sure about the rest of the old home owners that read this blog, but our old home is a dust magnet.  No matter how clean I am (anal would describe our cleaning habits), the space under the furniture is filthy with dust, crackers, a random shriveled grape, or a 1/2 eaten cookie.  Not to mention, at the end of the day, at least 20-30 toy items. 

I have come to cringe when it comes to reaching under the furniture to retrieve toys in the den, which is our main family room.  It is sort of like a grab bag….you never know what you will find.  I peek first, and see a variety of shadowed objects.  Then comes the blind grab.  I swoop out numerous lint covered objects, then peek again.  What’s that in the very back?  Is it Mia’s missing sock?  Or another dolly hat?  Is it yet another Bionicle piece?

I reach in and pull out, Holy Mother of God, a dessicated palmetto bug.  I scream, jerk my hand back, flinging it into the air where it finds a nice spot in the ends of my hair.    Swatting and screaming, I slap it out. There is NOTHING I hate more than those nasty, flying cockroaches.  Never mind that it is dead and covered in lint.  Gag, shudder.

No, furniture should be solid all the way to the ground.  There should exist no toy caves.  No palmetto bug tombs.  No crevices of hell. 

Only a childless carpenter would produce something with a space underneath it.