When I was married, my go-to method of dealing with anything that came with the notice, “some assembly required” was to ask my husband what kind of sandwich he wanted while he built. It’s not that I can’t put stuff together, it’s that I hate the process. I don’t know what it is about my brain reading instructions, but they always morph into a foreign language, and I get incredibly frustrated. Things get thrown, there are tears, and I hate myself for the rest of the day.
In this post-divorce world, I’m left to conquer my “some assembly required” foe by myself. In truth, I try to avoid stuff that needs to be built by me, but that can’t always be avoided. Take for instance, the bed ramp I purchased from Chewy for my beloved dog, River. The thing is huge! And came neatly folded in a box that looked like this:
Damn it.
“I will not be deterred!” I declare, fist thrust into the air, hair tied back, war paint streaked across my face. “This bed ramp will be assembled!” Somehow I have a British accent now and am wearing a wizard cloak when I say this.
And so it begins. The supervisor must first inspect the box. Sniffing is the greatest inspection method of all time, and she’ll pee on anyone who argues.
This doesn’t look too bad.
This, however, looks frightening. A bag of dread. Necessary dread, but still.
With all big projects, it’s important to have the supervisor oversee each task. Rope toy was given as a sacrifice to the assembling gods.
Go forth into the world with confidence, knowing you have the only two tools you’ll ever need to build things.
Fun fact: I owned zero amount of tools before this, and now I have two. So, yay! Progress.
A good supervisor sits on the pieces needed to complete the project.
Success! First pieces are now assembled, confidence is high as I go forth.
BEHOLD! Step #1 of the assembly is complete! I am woman, hear me roar! Note: Supervisor has turned her back on the project as a safety precaution; there is a cat lurking about. The project must be protected at all costs!
Step #2 has a grammatical error that causes step #2 not to make any damn sense. Plus, something is wrong because the pieces aren’t fitting together they way they should. Frustration mounts, confidence plummets, and I kinda want to punch something.
Why are there SO MANY pieces?!? Side note: I’m not crying, you’re crying. Why is nothing fitting? These instructions are stupid. This ramp is stupid, washers and caps and screws are super stupid.
Brother to the rescue. Someone assembled step #1 backwards. Weird. But everything has been taken apart and put back together correctly now.
Supervisor inspects my work for flaws, ensuring the legs are going the correct direction this time.
A truly professional supervisor will start licking the workers’ faces while they are in the middle of a task.
The pieces are not marked or labeled. The instructions read “place the piece that is 31″ long onto…” WTF? My brother takes mercy on me and realizes helping will greatly reduce the amount of curse words flying from my mouth.
Small snag, the last hole in this piece didn’t match with the hole in the bottom piece. Ah well, I’m just happy to have gotten the majority of it together.
Success! The Ramp is built and the supervisor approves.
If you need assistance with assembling doggy bed ramps, or would like to book a show with an award winning magician (or both) I can hook you up! Give the brother featured in this blog for saving the day a call: http://www.eliascaress.com/
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Here is a link to the ramp I purchased from Chewy. I’m not associated with the company, but I’ve included the link to their site because I really dig their company and customer service. ❤
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jennifercaress 