A Flat Pack! A Handyman! And A Hangover! (I.P.)

A Flat Pack! A Handyman! And A Hangover! (I.P.)

Have you ever bought an item of furniture that comes flat packed for easy carriage? I have in the past but now I know better. I won’t go anywhere near them…not after the last time. The problem with flat packs is in the assembly. My husband, as assembler in chief, insists the only place he can get it all laid out so that he can see where each bit goes is on my cream carpet in what should be my lounge. However, there will be no lounging about while this epic is going on that’s for sure. So he unpacks the box spreads out the diagram sheet which tells him which bit goes where and in what order. Then he carefully removes all the bits from the box and equally carefully lays out each piece.

“How long do you think it will take, dear?” I enquire.

“Shouldn’t be more than half an hour.”

“Oh, that’s good,” I say. But then I hear those dreaded words.

“That’s if all the pieces are here.”

Oh dear I think to myself I seem to remember we’ve been down this road before.

“I’m sure they will be,” I say “The boxes all get checked before they’re sent to the shop.”

“That’s no guarantee,” He says.

“Well the shop is open till eight so if anything is missing you’ll be able to get it before it closes.”

It is half past three on a Monday afternoon so all should be well. Should be…

“I’m hoping I’ll have it done by four,”

“Oh, that would be great,” I reply happily.

I might reply happily but as I’ve already said I’ve been down this route before. Now, inwardly, I am not happy at all. The reason for my unhappiness is my husband’s confidence which in the past has always turned out to be misplaced.

Four o-clock passes, five, six and then at seven all work ceases while we eat our dinner. After dinner, with his batteries recharged he again attacks the job in hand but this time he goes in for the kill. Armed to the teeth with an electric drill, a screwdriver, a spanner, a socket set, a masonry drill and a thing that gets stones out of horses’ hooves he lays all these out carefully on my cream carpet in what was my lounge but now resembles a workshop.

“Why do you need a drill, darling,” I enquire reasonably.

“You wouldn’t understand…they’ve drilled the holes in the wrong place.”

“But they’re in the same place as they are on the diagram,” I say, taking a quick peek.

“Well, that’s because the diagram’s wrong,” he says, grumpily.

“Really, I would have thought they would be very careful about things like that.”

“Not these days, love,” He says, giving me a patronizing tight lipped little smile.

Oh, I think now might be a good time to offer him a cup of tea. He’s beginning to get that frustrated look on his face. The look that comes usually just before he jumps on the very piece he’s been so painstakingly working on to the tune of Bastard! Bastard! Bastard! I think it’s a sea shanty!

“Would you like a nice cup of tea, dear?”

“When I come back I’ll have one,” he says.

“Come back from where dear?”

“The shop, there are definitely bits missing from this that’s why the things that should fit in the holes that are marked Figs. 1, 2, 3 and 4 on the diagram won’t go in.”

“But you’ve drilled more holes in different places won’t they go in now?”

“I know you mean well, dear, but this is man’s work. It’s not something you would understand just like I wouldn’t be able to understand how you made that delicious chicken casserole we had for tonight’s tea.”

Well, I thought to myself, actually you would because I had only micro waved a ready meal but I’ll keep that bit of information to myself. I don’t want to overload him with too much information when he’s doing such an intricate job.

“I think, dear, you will find you’re too late. It’s gone ten and the shop will be closed so it will have to wait till morning.”

“Oh, drat!”

“Never mind,” I say, attempting to placate him. At least we can put all this away until tomorrow. Then we’ll have our lounge back and we can watch the telly for a bit.

“No can do, dear,” he says “this lot must stay because I need to know where everything is.”

“Oh, but that means it will be spread all over the lounge till you come home from work and I’ve got friends coming round in the morning. Can’t we just put it back in the box till you’re ready to start again?”

“Sorry love, but I have got everything set out in such a way so that tomorrow I will be able to pick up where I left off.”

Anyway, two weeks has not exactly flown by and the diagram and the bits and the tools are still on my cream carpet with the grease marks and the coffee stains in what used to be my lounge.

“Darling, when do you think you will have another go at assembling this?”

“I’m far too busy this week and I’m not sure next week will be any better so it could be a while before I can get round to doing it but don’t worry it will get done.”

“Eventually,” I mutter under my breath.

“Pity you drilled those extra holes in the thing otherwise the shop might have taken it back.”

“No, I’m not going to let a little thing like a flat packed bedside cabinet beat me. I’ll get it done don’t you worry, my pet!”

Pet! I might just as well be, then at least I would have a kennel to rest my weary bones but not being a pet I must rest my bones on a hard chair in the kitchen and there’s no telly and X Factor’s on so that is downright bloody annoying.

“Well, I wish you would hurry up.” I was fast running out of patience.

“All in good time, my sweet, all in good time!”

Well, it looked like it was going to be just like all the other times we had bought flat packs and I vowed never to do it again. Imagine my surprise when I came home from work the next day and found my lounge was back to normal. No spanners, no drills, no screwdrivers, no socket set and no thing for getting stones out of horses’ hooves. Just a minute though…no piece of furniture either! Apart from the grease marks and the coffee stains on my new cream carpet I had, at least, got my lounge back.

My darling husband must have taken the assembled piece upstairs when he had put it all together. I am so fortunate to be married to such a thoughtful handyman. I’m sure I am the envy of my friends as none of their husbands will tackle flat packs and so they have to pay through the nose when buying furniture.

So with happy heart and eager expectation I trotted upstairs to see my new unit. My eye was immediately drawn to what should have been my lovely new bedside cabinet but what I had before me was an impostor, something that was purporting to be a bedside cabinet, standing at a drunken angle with a door that looked as if it was hanging on by a thread. It was definitely on the wonk and the drawer which I had hoped would house my cosmetics looked in need of cosmetic surgery itself. More worryingly, he still had the other matching one to make up though I doubt very much he could match the look of this one and what is more there was no way I would want a twin to this monstrosity.

It was two o-clock in the morning when my handyman saw fit to return home but I was waiting for him…no, not with a rolling pin… with a nice tumbler of whisky, no water and no ice. On top of what he had already had to drink I knew that in the morning he would wake up to a hangover that would be the mother and father of all hangovers. Well, if one is going to have such a thing, I always think it best to know the parentage. In the meantime I had been back to the shop and bought another flat pack, took it home and assembled it within half an hour. Only one thing, I think the diagram must be wrong because I seem to have an extra bit that I can’t seem to see a need for…

END