Hubby is working today (yes, on a SUNDAY) so I'm all alone to entertain myself and/or accomplish things. I wouldn't be so worried about the accomplish-things part, except that this tiny human is coming in, like, three months and oh my god there is so much to do.
We went to Ikea last night to purchase some I-need-this-or-I-will-be-a-bad-mother items, including: some shelves, some picture frames, and a stupid little white end table to sit next to the rocking chair so that I have a place to set my wine bottle while I'm breastfeeding.
As I'm sure you can imagine, Ikea usually means Hubby has some work to do.
But Hubby's not here. He has basically abandoned me to raise this poor child all on my own.
Or he's away for a few hours. Whichever.
In any case, at 10:00 this morning I decided I could probably put the little table together myself. This is how it went:
This doesn't look so bad. Just one little box.
DAMMIT BOX OPEN. OOOPPPEEENNNNNNNNNNNNnnnnnnnn
Oh, much easier with scissors.
Only a table top, three legs, a few screws? I can do this.
Oh my god these legs are all wonky. Which way is up? Why does the picture show TWO screw holes. There is only ONE. Oh. There's the other one.
Ok Tuxedo, not a toy. Also, not even safe. Like, you're seriously gonna get hurt. These big metal poles are flailing around like nobody's business.
Fuck this. FUCK YOU THREE WONKY LEGS AND A MILLION GODDAM SCREWS.
Oh. It goes like that.
My hands smell like metal.
This doesn't fit. This. Doesn't. Fit. THISDOESN'TFIT.
OUCH MY HAND.
Perfect! Those screws don't have to be tight. Hubby'll fix it.