Got up out of the wrong bed...

This morning, the universe decided to make my bed fall apart without my
permission. And so subtly, without me knowing it was going to do so. At
first, the one piece of metal (let's call it a bed rail) that had been
bent since the first moment I used the bed years ago (instead of my
sturdy twin bed I had used for so many years without trouble) that had
also been propped up with a stack of books and a piece of wood was
becoming more bent in spite of my best efforts to prop it up and attempt
to keep it more or less unbent. Then the foot of the bed, the part of
the frame that sees your feet most often, well it had been in a state of
disrepair (ie it was continually trying to fall apart even though I
managed to drive a few good drywall screws into it) and continued to do
so to the point where those little fingers that go into the frame to
grab metal pins imbedded in the wood by some skillful craftsman at one
point don't grab. They don't even line up because they're BENT.

After some examination and moving of mattress stuff which is hard
because I have no room to move mattress stuff, I find that the two
pieces of hooked wire that had been used to keep the 2 side rails
together (I don't know why they made this bed frame like that, it
doesn't make sense), well one of those 2 pieces of wire had one hook end
snap off completely. This action rendered the 2 side rails more useless
than they had already been.

I was able to locate the foot end of another bed frame which I wish we
had kept the entire thing because it was made of much sturdier metal and
shaped in such a way that we had no trouble at all from it in the years
we had it at previous addresses.

I still have the frame of my twin-size bed, and I'm like 1 inch away
from throwing this other frame out the window and digging out the twin
frame and setting it up. At least the bottom of that is more than 2
pieces of metal tied by a wire.

I've noticed that my grandparents could have things for years and years
and for some reason never have any trouble with them. We get ahold of
the same items and they go to pot rather quickly. It's like their
possessions hate us.