|Wulffmorgenthaler – Leather sofa from IKEA|
To begin, I have come to the conclusion that IKEA is really Lego for adults. It looks like so much fun, until you have to sort all the pieces and figure out why something just doesn’t look right as per the directions. And just like Lego, the instructions make it seem so easy! It’s also like Lego in the sense that there are always extra pieces, but you always wonder if perhaps the few pieces still sitting on the side are those crucial pieces that hold everything together. Oh, and like Lego, the feeling of accomplishment is astounding. It’s amazing how with some effort and the necessarily tools one can accomplish amazing things… (That statement wasn’t intended to be profound, but feel free to darshen it however you see fit ;-) )
Now this task wasn’t all fun and games. For one, it took a long time. Secondly, my fingers kill! I have learned a valuable lesson; don’t even think about undertaking a serious do-it-yourself project without a good Power Drill and a decent set of screwdrivers, oh an a pair of pliers wouldn’t hurt either! The other lesson I learned was that one should be exceedingly careful to watch their extremities, especially the digits! This was a rather painful lesson to learn. To make a long story short, or short story a post… ;-) I somehow managed to drop a cabinet on my finger! THAT (insert an expletive or yeshish imitation here) HURT!
So as the story goes I was lowering the cabinet on its side in order to attach the hinge assemble mechanism thingy and I somehow managed to get my finger wedged between the floor and some rather hard Swedish assemble-able material. I’m not a science or health major, but I think it has something to do with gravity and pressure (maybe a little toque too because it was falling?) not being conducive to one’s body. What I can tell you the equation is something like exceedingly large amounts of pressure * small fingers = immense pain. And then all of a sudden as the pain shot through my finger, neurons firing, adrenal glands secreting, and my sensory system processing the flood of information, my mouth formulated a lovely, albeit different plan. Subsequently as my eyes moistened and rolled slightly upward, I opened my mouth to loudly utter some rather uncalled-for profanity. Before I was able to breath a single syllable, I realized I was in the presences of a captive audience of children! And for a split second my eyes meet theirs, and I saw their youth, innocence, and purity, like cherubic angels holding lutes ( :-P ) and I just knew I couldn’t do it. My whimper trailed off into an audible, yet completely indecipherable, mumble. Although cursing is therapeutic, at least in the sense that it provides pain relief (at least according to one of this year’s Ig Noble prize winners), I couldn’t bring myself to corrupt those children’s virtuousness. :-( Or maybe its because I favor traditional medicine to alternative medicine! :-)
Yes, I know; cursing is quite bad for many reasons, but it seems that the only times I have been tempted to spew such vulgar terminology is in the midst of exceedingly trying situations. Granted, that is something which I am/should be/and will be working on correcting, but it also happens which appears to be something that is quite common nowadays. Surely, I can't be the only one like this! How about you? Do you happen to curse when the proverbial doo-doo hits the fan? :-P