When I get the urge to be “handy,” I buy a piece of
furniture that needs to be assembled. After a mistake or two, I get it right,
semi-right, or just darn right enough. Usually it takes me months to recover
from a building project, mostly because it’s traumatic but also because it
takes me ten times longer than a normal person to assemble anything. (Yes, this
includes puzzles.)
I have recently purchased several things that need to be assembled:
a bathroom linen cabinet, a computer table, an accent table, a drop-leaf table,
a bookshelf unit, and two pub-style chairs. All of these items represent the
great and unwavering faith that I have in myself, despite repeated failures and
shortcomings in assembling furniture.
In case you think I am kidding, I have made one and one trip
only to Ikea. Oh, I loved the store -- until I got to the warehouse part. Holy
crap in a cookie jar! People actually assemble this stuff . . . voluntarily?! Are
there really that many weirdos in the world that a store like this, a franchise
no less, can flourish?!
I am pleased to report that so far everything is assembled
except for the bookshelf unit (I am still recovering from the drop-leaf table
episode) and the two pub-style chairs (they’re in transit from the
manufacturer). If you see an old lady covered in duct tape and Gorilla Glue
wandering the streets aimlessly, babbling about directions no longer having
words but only pictures, that will be me. Feel free to bring your drills,
screwdrivers, and wrenches to my room at the asylum. I’m sure I’ll need some
furniture there, too.
