I just took a Blogging class at work, and I learned what could be more interesting than blogging?????????? (Tip: use lots of question marks!!!!!!!!!) I also learned to blog about myself. Because what could be more interesting than ME?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?
On Labor Day I decided to support the international proletariat by purchasing a chair.
Looks pretty slick, eh? And easy to assemble, according to the box. Why would it lie? I had the option of paying an extra ten bucks to have some strapping lad put it all together, but I thought, hey, why not ruin my day instead?
I got home with the giant box. Then I took out the 200 page instruction book, along with a cascade of screws, bolts, washers, widgets, pins, and bits of fluff. I took some calming breaths and reminded myself that I can do this. I mean, I've climbed Mount Rainier, so certainly I could manage this!
But I hit a snag: my stupidity.
You see, my brain done don't work no good right. I proceeded to screw in parts, agreeably pounding the armrests into the seat. It was really fucking hard though. With sweat pouring down my face, I struggled and strained to push the arms in close so I could penetrate the hole with the long screw. It seemed that lust ruled the day. And idiocy.
I got one arm rest screwed in, and then the next after immense effort. Then I attached the back. That was just as difficult. At one point the screws slipped out and I fell over the chair.
GODDAMNIT I yelled. (Birds scatter from neighborhood trees)
At last I got the back on. But something was wrong. I tried to sit on my deluxe new chair, and I looked like I was suffering permanent scoliosis of the butt. I was tilted forward as if on the verge of getting ejected from a cockpit. I twisted on the tension knob under the chair until my hand cramped something fierce. Still the stupid thing wouldn't act like a stupid chair. I sat on it, pushing hard.
"Be a chair!" I screamed. "I COMMAND YOU!"
This was just wrong. This wasn't how the chair operated when I lounged comfortably on it at the Staples showroom until I was told by a salesperson to stop.
At last, toweling off my sweaty face, drinking a cold Pabst, I sat on the floor and contemplated my infinite stupidity.
I had screwed in the arm rests, and the back, on backwards. Literally ass backwards. Literally. (And yet not figuratively, sadly.)
So after reading the Bible for a few hours, I took a deep breath and proceeded to disassemble the chair and start all over again. This time I intended to follow the instructions a little more shall we say assiduously. Okay: assiduously.
Suddenly everything was fitting in rather easily. I didn't have to pound or sweat or drop my robe to get everything screwed together. Huh! Note to self: if you have to assemble your chair as if you're wrestling Leviathan on the high seas, then you're probably doing it wrong.
I finally got my happy ending: my ass cheeks are currently working a new groove into my chair.
Now I think I'll buy this to put in my living room.
Assembly should be NO PROBLEM.