IKEA furniture has its place in this world. Like in my young adult daughter’s place. And maybe in my place too, should I downsize someday. And sure, there’s a certain pleasure that comes with building something yourself, but you’d better have the right tools or you’re in for a long day.
I didn’t have the right tools.
I had a cheap 4-way screwdriver and a cheap hammer. Standard twenty-something apartment tools. Technically enough to complete the assembly of a television stand and desk. Yet blissfully off the mark in efficiency. Still, it was a labor of love, wrestling with IKEA bits and turning it into furniture for my daughter. Like Christmas Eve years ago. Hours flew by on the floor with puzzles.
Sure, I wish I’d had the right tools. And reading glasses might have helped my interpretation of hieroglyphic instructions. But it sure was fun helping her even without those conveniences.
Just to see her light up in delight at her new furniture, as she begins her new life.