Charlie and I spent the last week putting together the desk for the office. It is one of those desks that you buy at an office supply store, comes in a very flat box and has 67, yes 67, steps and countless pieces to put it together. We spent a few hours on it every night, finishing one side, then the other, then the center drawer and so on. I groaned and moaned through the entire process and even got Charlie to admit on day 4 or so that maybe we should have invested a little more money and got a good-quality desk that was already put together before it made it's way into our house.
When it was done it looked pretty nice, but one of the drawers does not go in and out very smoothly despite Charlie spraying it with DW40, so I will curse it every, single time I open it. Maybe I will just not put anything in that drawer so that I don't have to open it and will just choose to open it on those days when I am already angry with Charlie and need more fuel for my fire. Or maybe I should just shut up and get over it.
Anyway, we've moved it into the office at this point and it is 100% better than the little table that the computer used to be on, so I can't complain too much. As long as the kids never touch it and put tape on it that takes the finish off when I rip it off I think I'll get over it and be okay.
However, here's the funny part of all of this. The other night Charlie was watching Hard Knocks, an HBO show that follows a different NFL football team each season. This season they are showing the Miami Dolphins, Charlie's favorite team. At one point he called me into the room to show me a clip from the show. It was about the Dolphins' new quarterback, who was just drafted and is straight out of college. He was given a $7.5 million signing bonus and is making another $3 million plus this season. So the guy has a lot of money.
In this particular scene he and his gorgeous wife were building their own end table. It probably came in a box similar to the one our desk came in, but much smaller. They couldn't get the drawer to work at all. Charlie looks at me, smiling, and says something about how this guy makes millions of dollars and he builds his own furniture, so why can't we? My response was simple. He's about 22 years old. He's supposed to build his own furniture at 22. I'm 40. I've already been through the years where I build my own furniture. I'm old enough that I've earned the right to buy one already made.
Someday I am going to buy a kick ass desk, I just may have to wait awhile. I can tell you for sure, the next one we buy will not come in a six inch high box.
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