I need two new lamps for my den. This fact has nothing to do with an absence
of lamps; the room has two lamps and an overhead light. This need for more lamps is because I just
added some new furniture, and I think the new shelving units at either end of the
futon warrant some new lighting.
I also have a computer desk that needs to be assembled. I got it for a great sale price about
eighteen months ago, and I still haven't assembled it. I've been too damn busy, for one thing, but
for another thing, I'm afraid the assembly might be more complicated than I can
handle. So when I come across a little
time, I decide to start small. You know,
work up my confidence.
I've assembled furniture before. I probably have a dozen book shelf units
under my construction belt plus a few hutches and even a couple of more
elaborate pieces. But the computer unit
scares me to death for some reason. So,
today I start with some easier stuff. I
need to assemble two smaller shelving units and a tall one.
I'm a smart girl. I
can follow directions. Until I realize
that all of the directions are visual; there are no explanations with the
drawings of the steps.
Uh-oh.
Flashback to those tests I used to take in school when I was
a kid. In my elementary school district,
these were called "Iowa Tests."
Generally speaking, I liked taking those tests. I liked filling in the bubbles, and I liked
trying to beat the clock and be done before the teacher said, "Time's
up. Pencils down."
But there was that part of the Iowa Test that I hated -- The
part where there were shapes either fully assembled or open like a piece of
origami gone bad. The questions were one
of two things: What would this shape look like if you took it apart? … Or …. What would this shape look like if you put it together?
My answer was usually the same: I don't
know.
As I got older and more intellectually sophisticated, I
still couldn't figure out those shapes, not assembled nor unassembled. My response became more elaborate: I don't
fucking know.
By the time I had to complete the GMAT for grad school, my
response evolved, as well: I don't fucking know, and I don't fucking
care.
Now, sitting on the floor of the den and staring at nothing
but figures and drawings on paper, I really and truly wish I'd mastered that
whole One of these shapes is not like the
other bullshit. However, the logic
portion of those tests? Yup. That shit I murdered. I just need to apply some logic to this
endeavor.
I lay out all of the pieces.
The shelves are pretty obvious as are the ends. Then I have some supporting pieces and a
bunch of screws. Thankfully the screws
are all the same size; there is no need to start sorting screws into different
areas of my mini-construction site. I
take the end pieces and look at them.
Here's where the trouble starts. I can't tell end piece A from end piece B
because they both look the damn same to me.
I mean, they're matching end pieces but for opposite ends, correct? One is the left end, and one is the right
end. After some debate, I decide it
doesn't matter which end I start with because both ends need to be attached to
the shelves, and it's obvious, even to an idiot like me, that the holes have to
match up for the screws, and that there has to be some area left to insert the
wooden pegs to cover those screws.
After much tension and some scary moments, the first shelf
unit is assembled. I start unpacking the
second one and … I get a phone call. The
phone call leads to an errand. By the
time I return, I've forgotten how I put the first shelf unit together and have
to study the pictures all over again.
After some mind-boggling recollections on how I survived
assembling piece #1, piece #2, its twin, goes together. The tall shelf unit should be similar, just …
taller. I start to cut open the crate
when I get another phone call that takes me on a second errand. By the time I return, I am stunned at how
good the new furniture looks in place and anxious to start on the final piece.
Except this one has screw-in shelves and pegged
shelves. Damn. I need to study completely new and alien
pictures. Once I've done that, I sort my
supplies into different areas of the den.
These shelves are shorter, so balancing them while I'm sitting on a
comfy bench isn't going to work. For
this shelf unit, I need to get down and dirty on the floor. An hour later and without too much trouble
(and with no mistakes), the final shelving unit is done.
My biggest problem is determining which animal statue will
end up on the top of the new furniture.
For the tall unit, I go with the tusked elephant because if the tall
giraffe should fall from it and break, I'd probably lose my mind. The shorter shelving units each get one of
the three smaller giraffes. Yes, my den
has a bit of a jungle theme to it. Just
a bit. I had to throw an abstract oil
painting of a horse to the wall last year for some pre-daughter's-wedding
photos, and the zebra painting I found was just too damn expensive and the
colors didn't match the room. As soon as
I find a suitable jungle-themed painting to add to the collection, the horse
will move somewhere else.
In the meantime, though, I have success. I might be ready to tackle the computer
desk! I might … oh … who am I kidding? Three successes in one day are about all I
can handle. Let me concentrate on
getting two new lamps for my new end units and call it a day. After all, my confidence can only stretch so
far, and I'm really psyched that I finally figured out the answer to that
burning question: What would this shape look like if you put it together?
