Putting Together An Ikea Chest of Drawers

Where marriages go to die

A couple of months ago I wrote about the experience of picking out an Ikea kitchen and how I almost went all Single White Female on the Husband with a stiletto. It was stressful, it was exhausting but in the end, we got a fabulous kitchen and all was well in the world again. I also mentioned that my plan for my clothes (my babies) was to have a walk-in closet concept with hanging racks so that I had easy access to them. Shortly after the move, I realized that I have a lot of clothes and 5 hanging racks were just not enough. I had also, luckily, purchased two super large freestanding shelves for my shoes and purses and pants. Our nanny's husband was able to hang them to the wall and I felt like we were almost done with the clothing fiasco of 2014.

Before I go on, let me just preface this by saying I really did not know how heavy pants can be. IT IS NOT MY FAULT!

So, anyway, yeah, lots and lots of pants weigh a lot. They weigh so much that one of your gorgeous freestanding shelves will tip and bend when you pile on like 40 pairs of pants (trousers for you British readers out there and I probably just totally changed the story for you. Sorry). And then your husband will come in and be all like "The Hell Happened Here?!?" and you will be all like "Idunnowhat?" So yeah. Anyway. Because there were not enough vessels for my clothes, I ended up buying a Malm Ikea chest of drawers a few weeks back. I bought it online and didn't tell the Husband because I was paying him back for going on a business trip. Or as I like to call it, a leaveyourwifeathomeation. Bitter? I'm not bitter. So bitter. So so bitter. His hotel room had a mini-bar.

I had been hoping the chest of drawers would have arrived before the party so that the bedroom would have been finished and ready but alas, no. Last night, after I got home, the Husband oddly offered to put it together. This is strange. The man never volunteers to do something like this unless it involves watching sports or me being topless. So I was naturally a little weirded out by the offer. I started dinner, the Kid drew with crayons and the Husband was in the bedroom, seemingly calm as he unpacked the pieces.

After dinner he went back and after about 20 minutes I heard "Dear? Can you come in here?" which is his way of saying "WTF?!?" I looked at the instructions, bitched that I didn't understand them. Looked at them again and then kind of understood them and then he sent me away. And I felt confident and very smug that we had, as a couple, reached that milestone of being calm and nurturing while dealing with somewhat stressful situations.

30 minutes later, the Kid is in bed. Red script is me, for rage.

I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE SECOND HOLE IS! WHAT DOES IT SAY?!
TWO HOLES! IT SHOWS TWO HOLES! WHY DOES IKEA LIE? THIS IS THE STUPIDEST THING EVER.
THERE'S THE HOLE! I FOUND IT! IT'S THERE! 

10 minutes spent in peace as we screw in some more screws, smug feeling returns until

I DON'T KNOW WHICH SIDE THAT IS? WHY ARE THESE TWO THINGS TOGETHER?!?! THAT'S STUPID! THAT MAKES NO SENSE.
THEY CAME TAPED TOGETHER LIKE THAT!!
WE ARE TWO SOMEWHAT INTELLIGENT PEOPLE. YOU HAVE A MASTERS DEGREE IN MECHANICAL ENGINEERING....AND. AND. I'M SCRAPPY. WHY CAN'T WE FIGURE THIS OUT FOR CHRISSAKES!?! I HATE THIS THING!
I DON'T KNOW. IT'S STUPID. IT'S A STUPID THING! GAAAAAAAH! (Him slicing his finger open with a screwdriver)
DON'T GET BLOOD ON THE RUG. I JUST CLEANED IT!!! 

The Husband returns with scented black toilet paper (don't ask) wrapped around his finger. I pass him a beer

MAYBE IF YOU DIDN'T BUY SO MUCH WE WOULDN'T BE DOING THIS?
OH! OH! SO YOU ARE BLAMING ME NOW?! MAYBE IF YOU HADN'T GONE TO SOME FANCY SCHOOL YOU WOULD KNOW HOW TO PUT TOGETHER A SIMPLE CHEST OF DRAWERS!
OH I SEE! THIS IS MY FAULT, RIGHT?! YOU GAVE ME 1 HANGING RACK AND ALL MY CLOTHES ARE PUT AWAY! THIS IS YOUR CHEST! MAYBE IF YOU...
STOP! STOP! WE CAN'T TURN ON EACH OTHER. WE ARE SO CLOSE TO THE END. THIS IS WHAT THEY WANT. THEY WANT US TO BREAK UP! THEN WE'D HAVE TO BUY MORE FURNITURE BECAUSE YOU WOULD LIVE IN A SHITTY APARTMENT SOMEWHERE ELSE.
WHY WOULD I BE THE ONE TO MOVE OUT?
I DIDN'T MEAN THAT. IKEA IS MAKING ME SAY THAT. I'M POSSESSED! Boohh booh.

We calm down and drink some more beer and then the light bulb goes off and we figure out the next step. Shaken and angry, we get the first drawer ready for insertion. We hold our breaths, and gently push it in. It works. We smile.

Want to watch Melrose Place and finish this up tomorrow?
Sounds good.
I love you.
Don't touch me.