Flat Pack Nightmare

My computer room was looking like a poorly-run charity shop, so stern measures were needed. A swift check on the local furniture shops led me to the sobering fact that a decent, ready-made cupboard would be painfully dear. The nearest thing to something half-approaching what I wanted cost around 80 euros. At this point I wandered into the local DIY shop, saw a cupboard which was just the job, costing 30 euros less. I´ll have one of those, I said and asked them to bring it out to the car. It was when they arrived with a large, oblong package that I realised I was about to enter flat-pack hell.

I was under no illusions - I knew what I was in for. After all, I´ve lived in the flat- pack´s alma mater for 30 years and have on many occasions been party to wild hysterical scenes where demented Swedes have threatened to hurl themselves like lemmings at the nearest Ikea, screeching curses and bloodcurdling Viking oaths at Ingvar Kampryd, its filthy-rich founder. I´ll bet he doesn´t have any flatpack furniture in his Swiss hideaway!

The package stood in the hall for 2 days and I slunk past it, dreading the moment of truth. When it finally came, the actual checking of the bits, it was exactly as it always is. Various vital chunks of wood and quite a few screws were missing. Back to the store, where it took half an hour to identify the neccessary spare parts and by the time I arrived home, I was totally fraught with the thought of what lay ahead. The job was put off for another 2 days.

Finally, Other Half and I started to peruse the instruction sheet. It reminded me of when I got my first computer. Whoever had written the instruction manual for that had left out the really basic steps assuming that nobody could be so stupid that they didn´t know how to switch on. Similarly, you needed to guess what the intervening steps were between illustration A, which was a bare, pristine cupboard side and illustration B , where screws and plugs were attatched to holes and a hand with a glue pot was about to stick a long narrow bit of wood along the edge.

Why does it have to be this way? Why is it always so obscenely difficult? Why are there always bits missing? I´m sure it´s tested in the factory to see if it can be easily assembled. But they do it all the time so of course it´s easy for them! Do they never test it out on ordinary thick-heads? It took us 4 hours, without the breaks for strong drink. When finally assembled, the cupboard isn´t too bad, although the doors aren´t flush and there´s a bit of a gap where the 2 halves of the chipboard back don´t quite meet. Still, I suppose it was worth it. I saved a bit of cash, didn´t I? It´s just that Other Half and I are not speaking to each other after a heated dispute over which way round the door hinges should go.

Actually, come to think of it, every cloud has a silver lining.