Over the course of a marriage, you find out your strengths and weaknesses, and especially your spouse’s weaknesses. The man I married is a gifted worship leader, and he has many other skills, but furniture assembly is not really in his wheelhouse. The instructions frustrate him, and then stuff breaks and screws fall down the drain and he ends up hammering the bookshelf together with drywall screws and a hairbrush, because I have lost the hammer. And honestly, the 12 hours he spends building a dresser are much less fruitful for us than the 12 hours he spends in the basement, plotting the salvation of East Texas or writing worship songs that will be translated into Spanish and so on.
That makes me the furniture assembly spouse. Of late, I have had 12356 children, and so we’ve been hiring a buddy to come build things, but the budget is tight, and I got tired of waiting for the bunkbeds we bought in the spring to be assembled. I had to carpe the diem, seize the bull by the horns, live in the moment and dance like nobody’s watching.
I knew it might be a challenge, so I set a dresser up to be one “wall” and then leaned the other side panel on the other wall. Then I picked up the long back panel and began attempting to hold it up, straight and touching both panels while putting screws in. Mostly I dropped everything. I mean, everything. All 3 panels, screws, Allen wrenches, profanities (not really), the butter knife I was using for various tasks, etc.
Side note: we had the windows replaced yesterday and we have no blinds up in the house. I bet the neighbors behind us just set up the camp chairs and the citronella and watched me drop bunkbed pieces on myself for 6 hours, because that had to be entertaining. You’re welcome, nice lawn people.
I tried to recruit the MOG a couple of times, but he had to go teach youth worship leaders a class or something. As soon as he left, I realized it was way past dinner, and then I found a great deal of fecal matter in an unauthorized location, and then Tristan decided nothing would ease his pain like being carried around on my hip, and then Toby knocked the bowl with all the dinner seasoning on the floor, where it both shattered and rerouted my dinner plan. Project shelved.
Once I got everybody to
bed a room away from me with a door, I threatened the MOG with divorce (not really) and then he brought ice cream home and I was revived.
I ended up building it myself. I used a great, great deal of patience, used my shoulders as a panel holder, throwing out IKEA’s instruction page order and switching it around to make it work for me, and getting it done. They are solid. I’m proud of myself. Their room is going to be adorable.
I have to give props, though. Could not have done it without the chocolate ice cream.