My back is going to protest loudly this morning when I get out of bed. And, for the umpteenth time in 10 hours, I will mutter, “F’ing IKEA.”
I will be another victim of the IKEA hangover. As anyone who’s spent hours with an Allen wrench knows, the IKEA hangover is the moans and groans of your body after a night spent hunched over MDF, an assortment of screws and IKEA’s infamous instructions.
I’ve never really had a problem following the IKEA instruction manual. Make sure all the hardware is there and separate it out by type and the process goes smoothly. Sure, the overweight IKEA man-blob (who is manlike and strangely androgynous all at the same time) who shows up on the first page or so is disturbing, but he’s gone after that.
Last night’s project was a desk.
Look, I should say up front I know IKEA is not a provider of quality furniture I can pass down to future generations. It’s a couple steps above Sauder furniture, but you’re not working with oak or maple – heck, you’re not even working with pine.
This was a good thing last night since the 21 (21!!!!!) cam screws came just about prestripped for my screwing pleasure. I exaggerate, probably only a dozen of the f’ing screws were begging for the last tooth to be flecked off by the pressure required to screw these suckers into the furniture piece. Did I mention they had to be set as deep as possible so the cam connector/bolt thing would work properly?
Yeah, it was on the second one of these that the night’s mantra first escaped my mouth: F’ing IKEA. Only I didn’t use the apostrophe.
F’ing IKEA became a whimper when, thanks to aforementioned lame screws, my screwing hand (heh) felt like one giant blister. The solution was to use the other hand to encourage the screw to turn so my thumb and forefinger quickly developed the dreaded throb of the IKEA preblister.
The back joined the chorus of complainants as I approached the screws from a variety of positions to get the most leverage and the best angle. Hey, way to go, F’ing IKEA, for requiring one of the cam bolts to be installed under a cross piece giving me 4 inches of clearance. That was pleasant.
Also, thanks for leaving the mass cam screw experience for the end. That encouraged me to stay in a position that, when I went to straighten up to stretch or read the next step, my body decided it should just stay in whatever advanced yoga pose it had ended up in because that hurt a lot instead of a great deal. F’ing IKEA.
Because I didn’t assemble the desk on my rug (do you know how easily Berber carpet snags and pulls – F that), sure enough, I ended up with a 2” scratch on the desk’s surface. Does anyone still make those crayon things that fill in wood scratches? Yeah, I know it won’t match exactly, but neither does the exposed MDF.
Desk assembly took about 2 hours. Since I didn’t feel like digging out the power drill required for the desk chair assembly, I quit IKEA projects for the night. Right now, the desk doesn’t have a chair to sit in at.
Yeah, I just ended that sentence with 2 prepositions. Do not start me with on that. My night ended covered in IKEA sweat with my feet leaving IKEA dust/grime prints on the rugs and my hands aching with IKEA preblisters. Your butt does not have IKEA pressure bruises, and your legs aren’t dotted with IKEA bruises.
You want to make something of my preposition use? Bite me.