Scour the news for an entirely uninteresting story. Consider how it connects to your life. Write about that.
The name of the article, says it all really.
Get rid of the baby, and the assembly-inducing tantrums are something that I am able to identify with quite easily. My partner in Crime, let’s refer to him as The Hulk, and I have certainly got more than our fair share of apartment furnishings from Ikea. It’s like gay mecca. And it’s all flatpacked. When we decided to move into our own place together, a lot of what we initially had came from whatever I had in storage at the time. And even then, a lot of that stuff were items that were either given to me from friends that were upgrading / replacing things (like the 2 Ikea couches I scored, plus a small fridge), or things that were simply left in my last share-house from previous housemates – like boxes of mismatched crockery and kitchen utensils, oh, and a dryer. But when we moved in together, rather than start our life together with an apartment full of mismatched items and old hand-me-downs, we wanted to start fresh. Start with new stuff.
Stuff that was ours.
First place was Ikea. And boy, have we gone to town in that place over the years. :-S
The real struggle that we had was trying to get flatpacks home to our previous apartment with Hulk’s previous sedan. With the backseat that didn’t fold down – just the centre arm-rest. This made our flat-pack shopping adventures quite a struggle sometimes trying to play Ikea Tetris in order to get everything to fit in the car.
Then the fun would be getting home, and having to carry everything up 2.5 flights of stairs. Oh the joy.
Sometimes, when it came to assembling our lovely new purchases, it was put off for a day (or four!) simply because it became too much of a chore to have to assemble anything after the exhausting process of trying to get it out of the car and up the stairs into the apartment.
Sometimes, we didn’t really have a choice and items needed to be assembled as soon as we got home (like the time we both put our feet on the coffee table and the shelf snapped in half… and then the leg broke!). Time to get a new one! Now, even though I may have assembled one before, I still feel the need to actually read the instructions for ANY Ikea project. Unless you’re from Africa, in which case, you can all read Swedish, apparently.
http://youtu.be/ophw0RM5Yc8?t=1m9s <– for some reason I can’t create a link!?!
Hulk, on the other hand, sometimes like to draw upon his alpha-male (read: stubborn, arrogant, stupid) traits and just attempt to put things together, and then has a hissy-fit when it suddenly doesn’t work. I’m not saying that this happens frequently, but it has happened. He’s not necessarily one for reading instructions for almost, anything. That’s my job. That also means I get to take a small piece of joy in taking him down a few pegs when I point out that he is in fact wrong and he can’t work out why something hasn’t worked properly.
We now have an understanding that if he is ever assembling a Swedish flat-pack, I know to stay away to avoid the usual passive-aggressive moment, which leads to the stubborn “YOU’RE NOT DOING IT RIGHT!!!” “YES I AM!!” argument.
And let’s just say, I’m always right. 😉 I read the instructions.
knock wood no cops have ever been called… although we don’t get to screaming point.