Easy-to-assemble?

Obviously my IQ isn’t high enough to assemble my new bed frame. In fact, both my husband’s and mine together aren’t enough, nor with the neighbour’s included.

Admittedly, it’s a frame from a designer shop, and I have no mechanical ingenuity, but still.

After an hour of struggling, I said, “Maybe we should really read the manual.”

“Maybe if you just lift it up a bit,” said my husband, face reddening as he attempted to heave it upward so we could see the screw holes. “We would get this done quicker. God knows why you had to pick the heaviest bed in the shop.”

“It was the nicest one. And I can’t lift any higher.  This thing weighs a tonne and I’m not Wonder Woman.”

“No, you’re really not.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing,” he said. He then muttered something to the neighbour, who laughed, shot me a look, and stopped abruptly.

“Something funny?”

“Heh, heh. He just said you – ”

My husband nudged the man hard enough so he dropped his end of the frame. On my husband’s foot.

“(expletive deleted),” said my husband. “You (expletives deleted).”

The neighbour apologised.

“You okay?” I asked, furrowing my brow just slightly.

He glared at me until I had to pout to prevent an outburst of giggling.

“Right, lift on your side,” he said.

I mustered my strength and lifted. “You sure you don’t want the manual?”

Ignoring me, he declared, “The screw holes aren’t there.”

“Maybe you’re supposed to drill it yourself?”

“Nonsense. Why would they sell it as ‘level two difficulty’ if you had to drill the holes yourself?”

“Well, drilling’s not rocket science. Can I put this down now?”

He nodded and I dropped the frame. On husband’s other foot.

“Ah! (expletives deleted),” he said. “Why did you do that?”

“Sorry, are you okay?”

“What do you think?” he said, hopping on one foot.

“That we should read the manual?”

“The manual will just be written in Chinese and have numbered parts that aren’t in the pack.”

“At least we’d know what to order.”

That earned me a glare, but I stuck to my guns.

“The manual outlines how to put it together.”

“You think I don’t know how to put it together?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

The neighbour chuckled, which earned him a glare from both of us.

“Right. Put it over there.” Husband grabbed the frame, his arm somehow lodging between two slats. “Jesus that hurt,” he said, attempting to pull himself back through.

His arm wouldn’t budge, but it was fun to watch.

“Just relax. If you stop moving about like a demented chicken, you’d be able to free yourself.”

He stopped moving and sighed heavily, then pulled his arm out. “Pass me the manual. I’ll have a quick look.”

I passed him the thirty-four-page booklet.

Half hour later I had a new bed. And I didn’t say I told you so…

Even though I really wanted to.

 

 

 

 

 

 


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