Last Thursday I was home with a head cold, and while laying on the couch I heard the doorbell ring. Out the window I spotted a UPS truck -something for my sister I assumed. Wrong. I opened the door and I kid you not a man not much taller than myself (5 feet on a good day) is standing in front of me wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open
“Uh… is anyone else home?”
“No?” I said, more than a little perplexed.
“Well I’ll need your help. Get a coat.” He says, already walking back to the truck.
Frazzled and getting myself together to go out, I remembered we were expecting a new couch in the next few days. Unbeknownst to me, it came in a fucking box.
I walk outside and this guy is opening the back of the truck while waving me over. He tells me I’m going to stand on the street and he’s going to lower this box, which by the way is the size of a couch, while I grab the opposite end. Now the distance between the curb and my front door is only a matter of 30ft but when you’re 5′ tall, sick and have no prior experience in moving large furniture you’re of little to no help.
After struggling to get this box in my house I sat on my now former couch, staring at the box containing its replacement. Fuck were my first thoughts. I wasn’t prepared to bring the couch in let alone build it myself. After looking over the instructions and pulling all of the pieces out of the box, there were only 8 pieces to put together. So this should be a breeze.
The words from my mouth while putting this couch together are unforgivable. The final piece was the only trouble- it wouldn’t sit properly. So I did what any distressed girl would do; I called my dad. He gave me some suggestions and said that should fix it. I hung up.
More unforgivable words were spewing out of my mouth at rapid speed with each attempt. It didn’t work. I gave up. I was sick, frustrated and I’d had enough. So I started texting a friend. I tell him about the couch and that I’d just spent the last 45 minutes with. He was quick to interject,
“Uh, you know- if you’re spending 45 minutes trying to put something together, it’s probably not being put together properly.”
I was dismissive. I’d read the instructions perfectly.
“That’s not the issue. I’ve read the instructions, I’m looking at it and it’s all right!” I snapped back at him.
Half an hour after our conversation I decided to take another crack at the couch. It was one piece, how hard could it be? Now, while I’m getting ready to slide the last piece in I noticed something.
The front piece was on upside down.
Taking off the front piece and putting it right side up, I happened to notice something else – the back was on backwards. I can’t even explain to you how angry I was. I hate when I’m wrong but I hate when my friend is right about me being wrong even more. I text him and the gloating ensues. He asked what the issue was and thanked me for the laugh- it’d brightened his day.
Einstein once said, ‘The definition of insanity is doing something over and over again and expecting a different result.”