Ikea and me

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Today I spent five hours attempting to assemble Ikea furniture while also drinking beer.

I decided to document it because, well, I knew it probably wouldn’t end well (at least for the furniture). It’s a departure from my normal blogs in that it’s mainly photos and maybe the “odd” video of me fighting a losing battle, so here goes…

imageIt’s surprising how much you can fit into a Fiat 500 and please note the six pack of beer because I had a sneaky suspicion that I might need it.

imageI had to carry this box, which weighed more than 30 kilograms, up a flight stairs to get to my new “writing room”. It was 30-plus degrees today with high humidity so that was really fun. I also am so awesome that I didn’t ask anyone to help me. What a superstar.
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This was the moment I realised that the instruction booklet for my new writing desk ran to more than 20 pages and I didn’t own a flat head screwdriver. So I decided to have a beer.

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Even though the instructions are in English they might as well have been in Swedish and I soon realised that I’d put the “sidey, rolley bits” for the desk drawers on backwards.

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One of the top moments of the day was surely realising that I had put the top of the desk on backwards and would need to de-construct almost the whole fucken thing. So, here I am pondering whether my life has any meaning, and whether I am in fact a dumbass.

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After “successfully” assembling my new writing table, from which a plethora of Pultizer and Oscar-winning stories will no doubt be created, I see that the drawers are a little off-kilter and I am a victim of premature celebration. So, after nearly three hours, because I was clearly winning, I decide I might as well assemble the book-shelf. Here’s what happened not long after…

I’d had about four beers by this stage so I decided to take an Ikea “Kallax”  reflection selfie.

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I must admit that having beers makes the whole Ikea process much more enjoyable but you also get a little distracted. Such as this photo when I realised that my lady-bird was on a precarious lean. I knew the feeling.

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While listening to some very good, and increasingly loud, tunes I had a moment when I thought I was the Ikea Queen. This is a piece of piss I thought while simultaneously dancing in my study. Then I realised that my joy was about to be curtailed by the dreaded Ikea hinges.

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And then this. I mean, what the fuck is this supposed to mean?

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So the “ghost hand” freaked me out so much I had to do this.
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Then I spent an hour trying to decipher how to turn two of the empty spaces in my book shelf into cupboards and, well, seriously fucked it up. I have never been so confused in my life. So here is the denouement of my efforts. What a glorious victory!

Sure beats the blog I was going to write about my ex coming around to pick up his furniture.

 

 

2 thoughts on “Ikea and me

    • Thanks Becky! You have to laugh because it does seem overly complicated (although beer seemed to make it easier or perhaps I just stopped trying so hard!)

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