Ben published go to apple" target="_blank"> this post on January 9, 2010...
Yesterday I did something amazing. I surprised myself and others with this feat, which can only be described as a ‘courageous act’.
I put together a cot from Ikea. All by myself. Without karate-kicking the poor thing to pieces whilst weeping inconsolably.
I hate Ikea, by the way. It really bugs me that to get to one place you have to walk through a million other floors, each with Yurgenflurgens and Kershenburgens hanging from the ceiling or abusing your eyes on walls lined with row upon row of shelves. I find it a bit odd that every now and again you come across a completely random apartment made entirely from Ikea products. I ain’t gonna live there.
I understand, the Swedish guys are just doing their job, but their marketing strategy of ‘throw as many items of furniture/squeegees/candles at them as possible and see what sticks’ is just so obvious it makes me want to walk around with a pair of coasters strapped to the side of my head as blinkers so I don’t get sucked in by the £1.99 bundle of coat hangers, or whatever. Also, people who are perfectly capable of walking up the stairs deem it fit to cram themselves into the lifts, taking up space that we actually need for our pram. If you are one of these people, I hope that when you do pluck up the courage to tackle a flight of stairs, that you fall down them.
Needless to say, I got super-stressed in Ikea – thanks in part to the incessant ‘but you will always find him in the kitchen at partiiiies’ music – and I assumed this fury would spill over when I actually came to put together the cot that we’d bought (or Leksvik, as it is otherwise known). My wife picked up on this and wisely scooped up the kids and drove to her mothers, to avoid the splintered MDF that would probably be lobbed down the stairs in a fit of rage as I howl like Chewbacca passing a particularly dry turd.
But I amazed myself. In the time it took to drive home from Ikea, I’d calmed down somewhat, and was convinced that this ominous piece of flat-pack furniture would not beat me. And so, coffee in one hand and a tube of Smarties in the other, I squared up to the large cardboard box for a while. I mean, literally squared up. Like boxers do.
After a few minutes of attempting to stare out a cardboard box, I put the FA Cup on the radio and began setting out all the slabs of wood, various screws and funny-looking bits of plastic. And then, I followed the instructions. I know! Me, a man, following instructions! Unheard of.
Boom! Twenty minutes later, my Leksvik is assembled, and there are no holes in the door where I’ve punch-danced out my rage. And it looks pretty darn good.
Wonder how long it’ll be before it falls apart. Screws are totally overrated.
Read more from Ben's blog, Goodbye Pert Breasts, by go to apple" target="_blank"> clicking here on January 9, 2010...
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