So because meteorologists would have still classified the weather today as "pretty shitty" I decided that it was time I did a few chores. Ack! Spit! Cough! Recoil! I wouldn't exactly say that I have donned the haus frau apron like a good little domestic doormat. In my pre-Switzerland life, I used to play that handy "We BOTH work 9-5, it's your turn to vacuum" card.
Now I don't have that card in my deck (yet). I am responsible for order and cleanliness (you should all be afraid, very afraid) so I have been doing what any sane person does: procrastinating.
And today's procrastination technique in the fight against fighting rolling tumbleweeds of cat hair, was to organize the new Ikea furniture. Specifically, get all my clothes into the new BLUE dresser.
Ain't she pretty?
I'm only pretty on the outside. Inside I have no soul, and like to make girls cry.
She better be pretty, because it took two days of absolute toil to get this thing put together.
Our Ikea shipment sort of straggled in over the course of two weeks. First to arrive were our chairs and our couch, and I had those babies put together in record time. I was busting with pride over my ability to read Ikea, and get have our seating assembled with no problems and no help.
Someone give me the golden allen wrench! I could be part of the Ikea pit-crew!
So the next week when the rest of our Ikea goods straggled in (dresser, rug, coffee table), I was armed with my allen wrench and righteous attitude ready to get the latest Ikea puzzle put together.
With a gentle flick of the wrist, and a couple turns of the hand, the rug covered the floor and the coffee table held my tea.
But the dresser, that GD dresser was another story.
Dan phoned me from his pub night on Friday, just as I started to get ready to put it together.
"Wait for me, and we'll put it together tomorrow."
"Dan, why would I wait for you? I can put this together. This dresser will be so easy. In fact, you couldn't handle putting it together because you can't read Ikea and I can. I have the golden allen wrench."
"The golden what?'
Shit! Did I say that out-loud?
"Basically by the time you stumble home tonight, this dresser will have been put together faster than you can Swedish meatball!"
There I go, showing off again.
About three hours later I called Dan in a fit of anger: "Find a hammer and bring it home! I'm using a can of ravioli, but the stupid can of is too soft and I can't get the nails hammered in! This dresser is a bitch!"
And somewhere in the universe, an angel got its wings. Karma struck again, and Caitie was forced to eat all her braggy-braggy words.
The next morning it was discovered that I apparently couldn't read Ikea. Half the dresser was put together wrong, and thank goodness that a can of ravioli can't be used as a hammer, because I'd been attempting to hammer a giant cover on the wrong side.
So that afternoon Dan and I disassembled the whole damn thing and started from scratch.
His first requirement was he demanded order because it would all come together easier if everything was in neat piles.
Don't you think my system worked?
But oh it was sweet. Because it turns out that Dan was having a hard time reading Ikea too. Which means that some of my previous mistakes didn't actually seem too impossible to make.
What goes where? And that's supposed to make a DRAWER???
About two hours into the process we started to become a bit delirious and cross-eyed over the whole thing, and we started imagining ourselves crashing the Ikea family picnic.
"When we show up Dan, we'll call ourselves the FA's."
"What does that stand for?'
(Dad, Nan, anyone else opposed to vulgar words...skip the next few lines.)
"It stands for the Fucking Awesomes! We'll just walk up to people at that stupid picnic, where everyone is eating their dumb Swedish meatballs, and be all Hi we're the Fucking Awesomes. We imagine you're pleased to meet us."
"And then when the furniture building competition starts, we'll just crash that party and fucking win FIRST prize!"
"Of course we will! Then we will get the Golden Allen Wrench, and with that power we will make all the furniture designers come down from their mighty Ikea mountain AND WE WILL MAKE THEM ASSEMBLE THE HEMNES DRESSER!"
"They will rue the day they double crossed the Fucking Awesomes. They will rue the day."
This imagined scenario continued for an embarrassing amount of time, but sometimes you just need to rally the troops, you know?
And after about three hours (we took a beer break), Hemnes was assembled.
But I was so irritated that she hadn't been the dresser of my dreams (how dare she make me eat my braggy words!), that I ignored her for three days. Everything is in there now, and she's pretty sturdy and does her job well of being functional and pretty.
But one day, it is my hope to be a real grown-up who can afford furniture where a Masters degree in Lego Assembly is not required to put it together.
A girl can dream can't she?