If You Build It...

When Mama told me I was getting a shed, I knew I would be putting it together all by myself.  And I felt certain I could tackle that with no problem even though the biggest thing I have constructed to date is a bookcase.

See, my mother and I took a woodworking class 9 years ago because we'd never tried that before and why not?  While everyone else was laboring away on their little spice racks and footstools, my mom and I were working on probably the biggest projects in class history.  She built a 5 foot long bench with a seat back and I made a 5' x 6' bookcase.  I don't think the phrase "Go big or go home" had come into fashion at that point but that was certainly our approach.  As you would expect, our teacher freakin' LOVED us.  Skip.  He was really cool.

Anyway, here we are today with the shed to assemble.  It got delivered this afternoon in two boxes that were nowhere near as big as I expected and I knew what that meant.  Lots and lots of parts to put together. hrrmmm.  I am fucked.  So I looked at the directions.  And almost immediately wished for the clean, cold steel of a gun barrel right between the eyes.  This is going to suck out loud.

The directions said something like this: Young lady, there is no conceivable reality in which you are going to successfully assemble this structure on your own.  You will need a team of big, strong men to do it for you, you silly girl.  And you better get busy making them sandwiches.  If you attempt this all by yourself, you are certifiable.

And I thought, Okay, Arrow shed people.  First of all, make your own damn sandwich.  Secondly, If you read my last post I think we can all safely assume the crazy train has left the station already and I'm the freakin' conductor, okay?  Lastly, blow me.

So I go outside and start pulling pieces out of boxes until all I've got is one big, fat mess and a confused look on my face.  Directions.  check.  Parts.  umm...check?  Wait, where is the...?  How does...?  Hold on, your telling me I have to remove all the sod from the area and level it first?  Are you fucking kidding me with this?!  (A phrase which would be repeated no less than 472 times this afternoon)

So I go back in and emailed Audrey and notice blood pooling on the top of my foot.  Razor sharp shed parts.  Damn you to hell.  Audrey gave me the perfect pep talk which first encouraged me then told me there's no way in hell I can pull this off.  I got right to work immediately.

And the Arrow shed people can kiss my ass with their instruction manual too because giving me a small picture of what the parts look like in mid assembly is not.  at all.  helpful.  That was like trying to work a jigsaw puzzle where the picture on the box is of a card table with a half-finished puzzle and pieces lying everywhere.  That doesn't sound like so much with the helping either, does it?  See?  stupid instruction manual.

And I'm sure the point has been made somewhere at some time but I'll happily ask about it again here.  Would it KILL you to put the 17 million teeny tiny nuts and bolts in a re-sealable damn bag?  Because this is going to take more than just a minute here and there's a very high probability a klutz like me is going to trip over the bag and send screws flying all over the yard.  Are you prejudiced against the coordinationally challenged, Arrow shed people?  I smell lawsuit is all I'm saying.  So, re-sealablebags.  Not that difficult a concept to grasp.  Write it down if you need to.

So anyway, I got a bunch of the framing put together and finally quit when I'd bolted one of the roofing beams together upside down.  At first I thought, wait, there's two holes on the top of this piece...and then two on the bottom of this one...how in the...?...aw, fuck.  And part of me said, Where's that 140 IQ now, huh?  Nice going, "genius."  That part of me is a very obnoxious teenage girl apparently.

And then I just laid down on the grass and thought back to myself very sternly, Listen, missy.  Lose the attitude.  You know I can still out puzzle your ass any day of the week, so shut the fuck up.

And I stared up at the clouds and saw one that looked like Jesus.  And then it turned into a Samurai.  So that seemed like a good sign.  And no small progress in the mental health department if I do say so myself.

But now I don't know when I'm going to finish this stupid thing because it didn't come with a floor.  X said he'd have a minion or two come pour a concrete slab for it next week.  Hmmm.  Yeah, I don't know anything about concrete.  I'll let them handle that.