That's how many nuts and bolts we had left after putting together an IKEA desk. Oops! And why does it always involve a lot of swearing and fighting? At least, that's how B and I put the stuff together. First of all, you have to pretty much strip down to your undies because you work up such a sweat. So, don't bother to shower first; that you do afterwards. What a bloody rigamarole!
Good thing B is a lateral thinker. It allows him to just pull out the screws we put in on the wrong end of a piece, instead of taking the whole thing apart and putting it back together with the screws in the right place...so the top will fit on...so the dowalls are in the right place...so the drawer fits right...oh hell, just forget those two screws. And out he yanks them.
We take on the roles of Jackie Gleason and Art Carney during these sessions. This morning I was determined not to get sucked into putting together his blessed desk. First of all, I didn't think he needed another desk in our small office. Lost that fight. So, the desk is delivered, but so heavy we can't even get it out of the garage, let alone up the stairs and into the office. Our son-in-law performed that task before dinner last evening. Nice one, Nancy. Invite your daughter and her husband over for turkey, but by the way, would you mind schlepping a desk upstairs first?
I ignored him for a whole half hour with my own puttering until he said..."I don't get this." History tells me that if I don't get involved at that stage, he will just barrel ahead and force-fit the whole thing into a complete jumbled mess. So, I grabbed the 400-page instructions and diagrams and started. I played Ralph to his Ed -- with all the attendant raving, calling each other stupid and idiot and moron and how-can-you-be-so-f-ing dumb! But low and behold, two byzantine hours later, the thing was finished.
Except for those 10 nuts and bolts....???
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