Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Monday, February 09, 2004
You know, it's gotten to the point where you can't write a headline like that without thinking that it sounds kinda risque. Just be glad I didn't write "sex bolts."
Anyway, got the prefurniture home with no drama, unloaded it, and set up shop in the kitchen. There's not enough room to assemble it upstairs, and it was too heavy (132 unwieldy pounds) to fully assemble downstairs and take it up, so I settled on doing some creative prefabbing--assemble the drawers, the runners, the bits, some pieces--and then take the bigger parts upstairs to finish putting it together.
Here is a link to the chest--it's made by Sauder, which is sorta like the IKEA of Middle America. They actually make some okay stuff--we have several bookcases and desks from them--it's usually designed well enough, they have never failed to send along enough hardware, and the instructions are always in English As a Native Language.
Everything fit together just fine, and there were only a couple of factory-applied scratches, each small enough to cover with a touch-up pen (thoughtfully supplied with the hardware). Catherine was very helpful throughout the entire subassembly process, carefully scattering screws and knobs over the tabletop. I finally was able to get her to stand still and tightly hold one single screw at a time as I put things together and answered her incessant string of questions. --That's an extra battery for the screwdriver. ---That's the battery for the other screwdriver that's dead. --That's sharp, don't touch it. --That's a brass handle. --Brass is an alloy of copper and tin. --Not "ten," "tin," it's another type of metal. --No, don't put that there, it'll break something. --NO, I... --Yes, that's the destruction manual.
On and on.
Got the major pieces done and taken upstairs, where I proceeded to finish the assembly and begin the maddening process of aligning the drawer fronts. You'd figure that with only one set of holes for everything to fit into that there couldn't be that much tolerance built up when it's finished, but I guess there must be. I finally got them all arranged just so, but only after having to swap drawers around.
Finally, it was complete, and looked just like the picture. Rebecca and Reba began putting her piles of undrawered panties and socks and shirts into it, and after a couple of hours had it completely filled, and yet, there were STILL PILES OF CLOTHES EVERYWHERE.
I think I should have gotten an industrial trash compacter instead.
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