Some Assembly Required

In a past life, back when my brain functioned correctly, before the only reliable thing about me was having spit up somewhere on my clothing, I was a scientist. My job was to take a gene that encoded a protein, mutate the genetic code so that it encoded a slightly different protein and then do it again. Yes, I was trusted with this task by myself. And it was easy. My work was ordered, organized. Give me the problem and I will create your solution.

Unfortunately my life has shifted to the solving the unsolvable. Like laundry. No matter how much attention I give that sweaty pile of goo there’s always more. Like dinner. No matter how many masterpieces I create in the kitchen, (very few I assure you), my husband never fails to ask, (usually at 8:30am by the way), “What’s for dinner?” Like my favorite two-year-old who is screaming from exhaustion, “no nap!” Like the ‘low tire pressure’ light on my van though I have measured the pressure one hundred times and reside in the safe zone. Like my very happy baby girl by day and wailing Siren by night. The unsolvable problem. We are not friends.

But there is a light at the end of this anally organized scientist’s tunnel and it isn’t another Malaria lab. Three little words: Some Assembly Required. Ahh. Catharsis. For a small fee, I can bring home a flat box holding 63 pieces, various screws and an Alan wrench, and I will be at peace for one hour. Hooray for children’s toys that need to be put together. I love you. Will you marry me? In the last couple days I have created a beautiful 50s play kitchen, a plastic grill complete with hot dog and bun, two adorable children’s chairs, and I am craving more. There is a small bruise in my right palm where my trusty Alan wrench digs in to my flesh when the screw starts fighting back. I love it. I am at peace. Assemblage is my game and IKEA is my Mecca.

I’m sure I am revealing something terrible about my personality. Maybe I’m a control freak who suddenly found a way to control my environment if only for a hiccup of a moment in my day. Maybe I am too anal and organized. Maybe I need to seek help . . .

Maybe you should call me if you need something assembled. I’ll come pick it up, put it together and bring it back to your house. No charge. Crazy or not, that sounds like a deal to me.