“The beds came today,” Tracey told me when I arrived home from work on Friday and gave her a peck on the cheek.
We’ve finally (we think) solved the bed issue in the house. We’ve purchased three bunk sets – that is, six beds – for the kids’ rooms. We split one of the bunks, so each room has a bunk and a single.
Perfect, because there’s even an extra bed for cousins, friends, siblings or me.
“That’ll be my job tomorrow then,” I said as I strolled into the bedroom to check things out. Everything was flat packed and still the two piles of boxes came halfway up my chest. And there were more leaning against the wall. “And possibly Sunday,” I joked.
But I consoled myself it was a one off thing. It’s not like you put together six beds every weekend.
“Do you want me to get Dad to come over and help you?” Tracey asked. “Or Rob?”
Rob is a mate who’s ‘helped’ me build everything from our balcony to resheeting the roof to the slab for the shed. My job is generally to stay out of his way and make the cups of coffee. Not that he drinks them, but I feel more useful if I’ve got something in my hands.
“I can do this,” I informed my wife in my most confident voice. “There’ll be instructions.”
No. There weren’t.
At least not in the first two sets of boxes I opened.
Frantically, I phoned the store we bought the beds from and asked if there was maybe a website I could go to. I didn’t think there would be because I’d already Googled the brand, make and a plea for help and got nothing but the online catalog we’d found them in. As I’d suspected, there wasn’t.
Not that I let this stop me. The kids old beds were already dismantled and on the balcony. If I wanted the kids off the floor then this was going to happen today, with or without guidance.
“How hard can it be?” I mumbled to myself as I snatched up the Allen key.
EIGHT HOURS LATER, I had all six beds erected.
I finally found a set of instructions in the last box, but by this stage I’d worked it out for myself. I glanced at them, sure, but it’s not like I was having bits left over.
The only major problem I had was a couple of cracked boards, which the company is replacing quick toot, and a frustrating issue with the screws which was doing my head in. They wouldn’t fit!
I sent an email about this to the store we’d bought them off.
‘Of the sixty possible screws needed to secure the slats to the frame, something like 15 of them won’t screw in.’
I even went so far as to offer a suggestion as to why this was the case. This from a man who’s invited Rob over for a cuppa so he can reattach a drawer handle.
‘I suspect the holes in the wooden slats are slightly too shallow. Unfortunately, I don’t have the tools to fix the problem (one hammer, a couple of screwdrivers and a butter knife).’
See what I did there? I threw a bit of humour in to take away the bite. They didn’t bother with that when they responded.
‘The screw in the photo with the slat is the wrong one. The 30mm bolts are for slats and the 20mm are for everywhere else .’
Turns out that useful bit of information was in the instructions. I checked – halfway down the third page in string of bullet points (there weren’t many drawings).
So guess what I’ll be doing this weekend?
That’s right, I’ll be pulling the almost perfectly assembled beds apart and then there’ll be another EIGHT HOURS putting them back together using the right screws in the right holes.
I’m seriously thinking maybe I should invite Rob over for a cuppa after all.
if you enjoyed this post please share, like or comment 🙂
“Raising a family on little more than laughs.”