After waiting for Time Warner (the cable company with an evil monopoly on all of NYC. I really don't understand how it's legal for 8 million people to have only one choice. Isn't that anti-capitalist or something?) for five and a half hours to show up (they never did) on Saturday, we sped out to Ikea, hoping to get a couple hours shopping and some meatballs in before they closed at 9.
Yesterday Chris assembled everything and then together we tackled the wardrobe at the end of the day.
I could talk about how apparently Ikea's cost-savings strategy hinges upon not printing words, colors, shading, numbers, letters, or any other, oh, say, HINTS, in their black and white instruction "guide," preferring instead to let their customers learn by trial and error and really feel they earned that $150 wardrobe.
But whatever. We got the thing together. Realizing towards the end that it was SUPPOSED to be face down--after we had arduously dis- and re-assembled it so it'd be face up.
More dangerously, though, as we lifted it up to flip it over, the underside of my forearm snapped the baseboard in two. The UNDERSIDE of my FOREARM. You know, the part with the pulse? The part with no muscles? Not a whole lot of force coming out of that puppy. But enough, apparently, to break the piece in two.
Quality materials, I tell you.
Not being far enough along in our settling-in to possess band-aids, Chris wrapped my arm up in a paper towel and packing tape and we finished the job.
And then I found twenty dollars.