I know it’s a pun so old it deserves to be left in peace but I’m dusting it off and bringing it out anyway. Today’s post should have been a triumphant celebration of brand new (Valentine?) book shelves – like the scholar and gentleman he is the Scottish one took me to IKEA today and dropped me and a flat pack box safely off at home this afternoon. I dismissed his offer of help as befits an independent modern woman, I also dismissed my father’s hint of incredulity – but guess what – pride comes before a fall.
Bits laid out and dust flying (I really out to do something about hovering) I tried to make sense of the instructions. Three hours later having taken the shelves apart once to put in a bit I’d forgotten about, and again because of a bit that wouldn’t fit I am left with some exceptionally wobbly shelves which won’t go where I want them to thanks to floor boards which wouldn’t stand the scrutiny of a spirit level, and the lack of a back board that I don’t have room to slide in. I tried fitting it in other ways but all that achieved was frustration on my part and some damage to the (card)board board. Thank you IKEA.
The blond is coming round tomorrow and has promised some assistance – perhaps two independent modern women will be better than one. The handy (sic) illustrations for assembly suggest that it’s a two person job – which sounds like the beginning of a really crappy joke – ‘How many women does it take to build a billy shelf – two, one to... ah you get the idea. I do feel that I ought to be able to do this myself though.
If the blond and I fail then the Scottish one has promised to come round with his magic man wand and fix the problem – he assures me that this is a euphemism for a screw driver and that screw driver is a euphemism for nothing but screw driver. I probably owe him a bit of feminine admiration for his handy man skills as well as the opportunity to show them off, and I do want the shelves up and usable – it will be nice to have the floor back book free – but it’s still very galling not to be able to do this myself.
On top of all that my choice of bright blue shelves is not as satisfactory as I hoped (as the Scottish one pointed out might be the case and I have now admitted to him). Also my bedroom which was the only place left in the flat bookshelf free (though by no means book free) now not so shelf free looks a little bit to like a student room again. It seems I am destined never to be an adult, just to grow older.
And hold the press - I managed it, actually managed it all alone - and not as unsteady as in the picture here... So much for IKEA - I win. Right I'm off to arrange victory books without further delay!
