The ultimate relationship test: putting together flat pack furniture.
Everyone should be forced to do it. Preferably an item that takes upwards of two hours to complete. Small room, large piece of furniture a must. Baby crying: optional.
Yesterday the husband and I successfully built a three door 7 foot wardrobe from a flat pack. With a baby who was a bit upset. With a drill that kept needing recharging. And with the worst set of instructions I have ever seen.
We like to think we are relatively competent people, but there was a lot of interpretation and extrapolation required with the minimal instructions. Also there were no written instructions, it was all pictures with ambiguous arrows. Cue Anna turning the instructions round and round in circles.
A snapshot of our conversations over the two hours it took to construct the wardrobe:
“Babe please go and get the baby, I can’t do this while I am listening to her crying”
“We’ve lost half the screws for the doors” “Are they under the 90kg wardrobe??!”
“Kid in the hallway!… maybe just step over her?” “…I am carrying three heavy wooden planks!”
“Where is the Allen key?” “In the laundry somewhere on top of the pile of clothes?”
“Lift!!!” “I can’t! There isn’t enough room here for my bum”
“Where’s the kid?” “I don’t know!”
“…did that break?” “…. yep”.
At the end of the day we had one completed wardrobe, two exhausted adults, one sleeping child, two delicious salmon and veggie dinners, and an assortment of left over screws.
Drink of choice; beer for the husband, baileys for me.
But we survived, with our marriage still intact at the end of it, so test result: pass.