Follow The Directions.... #therearenowordstho

IKEA is stupid. It’s a stupid store. With stupid stuff inside. With ugly people. Because, maybe this one time I was in IKEA because it was close to the house and on way to this other place I was going. And perhaps I went inside and saw some beautiful stupid furnishings.

Yes. I went to IKEA. I mean, apparently your apartment doesn’t come fully furnished in the real (not Res Life) world. And even though you are totally okay with your clothing management system (the storage bins are clear…I can see everything), in adulthood and being “grown up” such is frowned upon.

I bought furniture. I bought two dressers, a night stand, and small table. What’s crazy is that in the store, you would have thought I KNEW FULL WELL what I was getting myself into. Went to get one of those cart thingies that you just slide the stuff in. Found the boxes on the right aisle and bin numbers. Made my way to check out without asking for assistance at all!

Then… Card Declined.

Um, bruh? What? So I call the bank, right? Because I’ve convinced myself that this furniture thing is going to happen, right?

Ma’am, thank you for calling. We’ve noticed some strange activity on your account and stop charges to prevent potential fraud.

Ugh. Fine. Whatever. Just ask me whatever you need to ask me. I’m kind of trying to make a purchase.

Did you make a purchase at DSW, in the amount of…

…yea, yea, yea, that was me. Don’t judge.

Then DSW again?

…yes, I went back. #HowYouJudgingMeForHowISpentMyMoney

Okay. *tone changes, she thinks she found the fraudulent charge, she’s getting happy* Did you happen to attempt to purchase something…at…IKEA?

OMG! Yes, that was me! The card didn’t work! Are we done? I’m trying to buy furniture. #STOPjudgingme!!!!

Oh, okay. My apologies. And…*continues reading script while reactivating the card*

Friends, what we have here is a sign. This was the Good Lord trying to tell me something. Even my bank knew I was doing too much. After all these years, they were like, Yea, right…like she’d willingly buy and put furniture together. Gurl Bye. Declined! *they erupt in laughter* I should have known this was going to be all kinds of wrong, but I pushed that cart thingie right on to the parking lot. To the car. That’s backed into the parking spot. Because, I have no idea.

No big. Get car out of the parking spot. Block all the traffic in and out of this parking area. Throw boxes in car. Carry on with the weekend. Oh, I haven’t actually picked up this boxes because a slid them on this cart thingie. Wow, these things are heavy. Kinda like furniture, heavy. Wait. Did I just buy multiple pieces of furniture by myself. The hell?

Now some Jerk wants my awesome parking spot. I haven’t gotten the first box in the trunk. My back is permanently bent. I think I have ahernia. Yes, ahernia…cause it was awful. After a good struggle with the last box, I decide that this was probably not the smartest thing a UCLA graduate did with their time on a Saturday.

And I proceeded to forget about it. I embarked on the most amazing, rest of the Saturday ever! It was awesome! Ate lots of food. Hung out with Baby Pey. And had some of the best sleep ever. I was winning.

But, Sunday came around. I woke up with a headache. I came down the stairs, step, by thought, by step. Trying to piece together what happened. I mean, I picked up some mail. I hung out with friends. I got to hold PeyPey. Did I lift boxes somewhere? I feel like I was struggling. *back starts to tingle* No, no. That didn’t really happen. That was just a dream. I didn’t go to IKEA yesterday. I didn’t. *giggling like Miss Sophia at the table* That’s silly. I’d never do anything like that.

*walks out to the car in a tank top, hoodie, sleeping boxers and rain boots* then *pops trunk*

Whoa. That. Actually. Happened. *face palm* #TwilightZone

I actually went to IKEA and bought furniture, with the intent of putting it together in the privacy of my home. All alone.

At this point I’m embarrassed. Who am I going to call for help? Like anyone is going to believe me. I don’t even want to fix my lips or my text messages to even speak this. Wait a minute here! You are an educated woman! You have degrees! You even run! You can do this. I mean, all you need is like a hammer, some nails, and glue and it’s done. Stop being a little punk and get it done.

I was hella pumped. Then I tried to get the first box out of the trunk. In boxers and rain boots. It did not go over very well. But, 30 minutes later, all the boxes were in the living room, so yea, that.

I have decided that I am going to do this thing, right? I am going to put the furniture together and it’s going to be amazing, right? I open the box and take out all the pieces. I see the pre-punched holes and divots and such, and I think to myself…This is IKEA. It’s so easy a caveman can do it. Why are you trippin? I open the instructions sheet and I see that they even have pictures of all the little screw and nail thingies that you have to use. I sit in the middle of the floor counting them out, and matching them up with the pictures. I’m so smart. Take that IKEA engineers.

So I begin putting things together. I totally got this. I get to Step 8 and I’m like, Hold up. It’s not working. What happened? And like the smart ass that I am, I go through all the steps to see where things went wrong. I mean damn, I used all the pegs where they showed me. And I certainly did. Starting at Step 5. As in, skipping over Steps 1 – 4. I feel like they should put more than pictures on these damn instruction sheets. I respond better to written descriptors. My mind is far more advanced than a normal human, and as such, these pictures do not provide the stimuli needed. #LiesYouTellYourselfToKeepYourselfMotivated #YouHaveSoMuchMoreToDo #ThereAreNoWordsOnAnyOfThePages #NotAOne #FckYouIKEA

So, I get a glass of wine. Do Steps 1 – 4 and make it to Step 8 with success. I feel so much better about myself and I re-realize that this is so easy a cave child could do it. I mean, how many Highlights magazines did I beast in the dentist and doctor’s offices. I’m a damn champ! Lemme start acting like one! And I am back into the swing of things. Sure I don’t know the anatomically home depot approved names of these things I’m using, but it’s working, and that’s all that matters. You and your stupid Swedish meatballs. You’re a meatball IKEA.

Well, apparently, I thought you could just build this thing from the ground up. Like each step would build upon the other and like in the movies, you’d put the topper on and be done. Or nah. So, now, amongst all these images #StillNoWords #IShouldTakeASLclasses #HelpMeSamAndKarla, now they have another dude helping the dude that’s supposed to be me, stand these pieces up! Da hell?!?! Nobody told me I needed to have a friend here! I would have called someone! DAMMIT!!! I haven’t showered. I still have on my boxers and rain boots. I can’t call someone over. Then I’d have to share my wine.

Thanks science. With prayer, masking tape, and shoe boxes, the building continued. Masking tape was used multiple times through this adventure in not using any of your resources and loved one to help you.

You know what’s sad? Being at your lowest point, sitting cross-legged, in rain boots, watching football with a screwdriver in your hand, knowing you have to finish, but unable to move. Because you can’t believe what you’ve just done.

Halftime is over, so I’m back at it. And it’s coming together beautifully. I am knocking these drawers out and screwing these thingies in and I’m like man… This is beautiful. And it’s so awesome that they put all these extra pieces in here. I mean, what if I broke one of these screwie thingies, or lost one? I would not have been able to finish this.

I. Am. Amazing.

So I did what everyone else in the world would do. I took pictures and posted them on Instagram. Because, quite frankly, the world needs to know of my greatness. And like it.

I felt so damn good. Until I made it back to reality. I realized there, in reality, that a store wouldn’t put this many extra screwie thingies in this package. Especially these because they have all these extra components and holes and whatnot. Attempting to prove myself wrong, I go back to my instructions that I have not translated from ASL to English because well, yo hablo espanol. I’m getting happy because every picture I’m like Yuppppp, I did that. All I needed was a box of crayons; I could have colored them in.

Then, nearing the end. I realize that one of the reasons it was difficult for me to stabilize the top of the dresser, was because it was being held in place by 4 wooden dowel thingies and not the 4 fancy screwie thingies that I have in my hand. At least that’s what the picture said.

Yeah I fixed it. So what it took forever. And maybe I did hit my elbow on my disappointment and bruise my ego on my pride. Point is, I have 3 fully functioning, less extra pieces, dressers built.

This thingie does not help you move your furniture. Trust me.

On the carpet. Of my living room. Downstairs.

You don’t want to know how I got them up the stairs to my room. #iWillTellYouAtHappyHour #ThanksObamaCare