When I heard the thump, I knew I was in trouble.

I had no idea how much trouble until I woke up this morning with arms like cooked spaghetti. My back ached, and I’d nodded off over a book about 9. But, hey, when your feng shui is off, what choice do you have but to move furniture all over the house?

“I’m moving my dresser,” Big Guy said when I asked about the bang. “I’m moving into Boots’ room, and I need to be able to get my clothes.”

This is the same brother he’d thrown out of his room no more than an hour earlier. And now he wanted to cohabitate? I think I read a similar article once in Ladies Home Journal’s “Can This Marriage Be Saved?” It seldom ends well.

It didn’t the last time they roomed together, starting when Boots was 2 and Big Guy was crazy jealous of Boots’s big-boy bed. Big Guy decided to crawl in with him, and they gabbed until the wee hours.

When we moved here, Big Guy wanted a big-boy room. None of that baby Thomas stuff for him. He wanted sports stars and super heroes. I suspected he also wanted to sleep without his brother’s foot in his mouth. Two weeks later, he must have decided he liked the taste of toe jam in the morning – he migrated to his brother’s room every night until his dad deployed. That was when both of them moved in with me.

Knowing that they are about to be evicted from my room – though still not knowing when – Big Guy took matters into his own hands. Or tried to, until I realized the walls were in peril. “Go get your posters,” I said. “I’ll finish moving the dresser.”

Then I realized that Big Guy has grown eight inches since they last slept double in a single bed. I’d have to move more furniture.

Big Guy’s bed isn’t heavy but it’s awkward. It’s a race car that’s almost a foot longer and far wider than a regulation twin. I took off the mattress and slats and stood the bed on its hood. “That looks like a crash at Talladega,” Big Guy observed.

It almost was a crash at Fort Irwin. Getting the bed down the first stretch of the hall was easy. Getting it around two sharp turns was not. It wouldn’t make it around the second corner, and I had to take off the spoiler. I screamed for a screwdriver as I balanced the bed on a shoulder that screamed because I knew I was going to have to say, “No, the Phillips head is the one that looks like a star” and send the guys back for the right tool.

I got the bed horizontal again, caught my breath and admired my handywork. Nope. With the beds side-by-side, there was barely room to walk. I pushed Big Guy’s bed against one wall and Boots’ against the other, forming an “L.”

Then I had to move the dressers again because Big Guy’s bed kept Boots’ drawers from opening. Then we had to transport Boots’ toys to Big Guy’s old room. The Wii equipment moved to that room as well, because if I’m going to exert myself that much I’m at least going to be saved from listening to Mario music for an hour every day.

“Cool!” Boots said as he surveyed the results. “We’re like Phineas and Ferb now.” No, you’re not, I thought. They sleep in a rubber boat, and don’t you dare get any ideas because there’s not enough wind left in me for that.

“I like it,” Big Guy nodded approvingly. “Thomas is more kid-ish. The super heroes were creeping me out at night.”

I’m hoping Thomas can handle the creepy super heroes when Big Guy remembers that Batman is on his bedspread.

Copyright 2011 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

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