After using a backless, worn out husk of a computer chair for the past three years, I ordered a new one. It was delivered yesterday.
Though I often say I’ll never buy anything else I have to assemble, the chair required correctly installing sixteen bolts, four each for the bottom plate, four each for the back, and two each for each arm. Simple! It was assembled without mistakes in half an hour. I read the instructions before I started, and learned some important details that assured I got it right the first time.
“Read the instructions”: I know that’s not the guy way to assemble things, but I once spent eight hours assembling a CD cabinet that the instructions (once I read them) said could be assembled in two. Seems I installed the seven sets of drawer rails backwards and upside down, a mistake that took several hours to undo and redo right!
You know those screws that come with these things: Use them once, and the head’s all eaten up by the screwdriver. They always seem to be Phillips screws, which I once read were developed in the 1930s for car assembly (screws meant to attach metal to metal…!), and that they were intended to go in once, then stay in place. That they do!
By the time I unscrewed the mis-screwed rails, the screws lacked good surfaces for the flanges of the Phillips screwdriver to lock into.
Speaking of Phillips screwdrivers, they last about one use before the flanges wear into nasty snarls that don’t work on new screws, let alone ones the screwdriver ruined the first time the screws were screwed into the exceptionally dense wood of a project. That is to say, it’s the wrong screw for the job, but never mind: I didn’t read the instructions first so deserve no sympathy from you!
But wait! This is supposed to be a victory story about how I DID read the instructions and an unassembled chair magically assembled itself, in half an hour!
I placed this magically assembled computer chair in front of my computer, left the room to clean up the empty boxes and plastic packaging. When I came back, Andy was locked onto the seat of my chair. He was NOT happy to move, he WAS happy to stay right where he was, and when I reached over to pick him up, he turned on that special gravity feature children and willful pets have that turns a small creature into a two ton weight. Andy was not to be moved!
We exchanged growls. Rowr! ROWR!
Andy, finally, decided I was serious when I told him I’d just sit on him if he didn’t move (I wouldn’t sit on him, of course), and got up from MY chair. He was very grumpy about it. He said something sarcastic under his breath in Catinese when he hopped off the seat, something that I didn’t quite catch. I assume it’s something I’d just as soon not hear with my virgin ears….
I sat in my luxury seating. You know, a chair with a back with lumbar support! Just right! “No wonder Andy likes it!” I thought, “This chair is great!”
I felt a thump on my back, a small one, but a thump just the same. It was Andy! If I wouldn’t let him have the seat, he’d take the top of the back! He just hopped there from the back of my other chair – the recliner – that Andy figures is his.
Strangely enough, it is a happy compromise. He’s comfortable on the back of my computer chair, I get a neck warmer, and, best of all, peace reigns in the house!
Or…until the next time one of us wants the chair first. Duh-duh-duhhhhh! [They call this “foreshadowing!”]