The assembly projects seemed reasonable. My approach to Ikea assembly is that inherently there is a Scandinavian logic buried in the details, somewhere, although it may take some exploring to find it. As I look back, I realize that it was no one thing. Yes, it was a hot day. Granted, I did not take on the usual amount of water. By the time the first three steps of shopping, selecting, and getting everyone onto a flat cart were complete, I was dripping. Add to that the challenges of getting home, lugging it through multiple doorways, and finally into the apartment, and I was exhausted.
Shades of my past crept in my choices now. There was no stopping or slowing down. Everything was pointed to a relentless pursuit of a goal that would only be complete when everything was assembled, installed, and finally filled. Just when I thought it was manageable, three defective shelves ensured that I would make at least one more trip to the store. This was going from difficult to bad and onto worse.
When the fourth bookcase was assembled and filled with books, everything within me was screaming. I had refused to listen but now I had no choice. “I’m a bucket kicked over and spilled, every joint in my body has been pulled apart. My heart is a blob of melted wax in my gut.” (Psalm 22.14)
I know I ate something after that. I am sure that I had a shower before I called it quits. I do not think I did anything dumb, except perhaps in getting to the point I was. I do know that it is the morning after and I have no recollection of any of this. It must have but did it?
I was lucky this time. I lived to tell the tale. The room looks great. The books are off the floor. I wonder if I will learn. If not, then the next time may bring very different outcomes. It does not have to be this way. The choice always remains with me.
