Some Assembly Required...But Not Necessarily Possible

We've all had those days.

Those days that it just doesn't pay to get out of the nightstand drawer.

 I was under the impression I had a project to build.

A straightforward, simple project.

A wooden Adirondack bench, marked from $99.00 to $49.50 

that I patiently stalked until it dropped to $35.00.

 This is the floor model.

Savannah and I stuffed one of the three remaining factory sealed boxes

into the Prius.

A feat in itself, I assure you.

When we opened the box, which was sealed in roughly the manner

I imagine Fort Knox to be, we found to our amazement...

wood.

Just wood.

That's it.

No screws.

No bolts.

No nuts.

Not so much as a @#$%^& washer.

Instructions?

Uh uh.

But those I could live without.

A lack of hardware is another story. 

That leads to a stability level I like to call

"falling apart."

I called the toll free number on the package and spoke with a Home Depot

representative, who contacted the store and made arrangements for a hardware 

packet to be assembled and they'd call me back and here's his extension

and call if I need him and

whawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawha.

Three and a half hours of fruitless internet searches for a parts list in my

dining-room-come-lumber-yard had me fuming distinctly.

Long story short, when I called my neighborhood HD, they had no information about any

replacement parts.

So I did the sane thing.

I put the damned bench parts into Marathon Van and headed on over there.

"Thrilled" is a less than accurate description of our 5:00 mood.

Fortunately for us, the manager I'd spoken to before piling into the van was Judy
(who recognized us from the blog~ gotta love that!),
and she was ready for us.

Pat from hardware took on the blind challenge.
He wasn't able to find any more than I did on the piece, even with insider information.

It wasn't just a matter of a few screws either...
there were metal screw housings that were machined just slightly off,
pre-drilled holes that hadn't been,
and other details I won't bore you with.

Under this photo.

Give me a minute.

However, Pat, without ever quite understanding why a manic redhead
was photographing his every move,
was up to the challenge, and we got busy.

Some of this was already screwed together.
I will always be thankful for the hours I spent doing puzzles
 with the Minions as toddlers.

One advantage to shopping the shelves during assembly:
I got to pick and choose my materials, and we went with galvanized since this piece will be outdoors.

Now for the section of the post subtitled
Screw This.

I think I shocked Pat when I yanked out my black velvet cosmetic case
and produced tools and a tape measure.
Dude, were you expecting blush and eyeliner?

We scurried about measuring the thicknesses of sandwiched joints
and trying out parts.
That scrap of cardboard on the seat?
That's the picture we're building from.
Yeah...

Once we found a part that fit and it was tightened,

cover me in fudge and call me a popsicle if I'm taking that sucker back out

and putting it in a bag.
Oh. hells to the no.

I've been considering buying the matching chairs when
their prices plummet low enough.

If I do, I'm also considering increasing my medication without permission.

I'll be back here if you need me, building The Ark with a pocket multi-tool.

About 5 minutes later we commandeered tools off the display.
I told Pat I was going to go and borrow a DeWalt power drill and a set of
adapter bits for the hex bolts, just put it on the gratis list.
Pat was less than amused.
I think Pat heard the sound of a promising career fizzle.

Once the beast was together, we were walked out the contractor's entrance
past a security guard with a deservedly wary look and into the hands of Ro,
a helpful gentleman whose size gave Samwow the perspective of a 10 year old.

I'd had Marathon Van exactly 3 days and had not removed the rear seats
from their housing as yet.
Ro raised an eyebrow and they unsnapped, folded themselves up, and slunk to the center row
with a low whimper.
We mentioned his name when we got home, and they scuttled
back into place and spontaneously locked.
Next time we have a drain stop up, I'm calling Ro.
He could unclog it with a threat.
(On the serious side, he was incredibly polite, funny, and wonderfully helpful.)

I'm just happy at this point not to be driving the Prius.

We loaded up Dame Judy Bench and dragged her home to

await tomorrow's transformation.
Which should have been done today.
But this became the Ben Hur of furniture assembly.
Thanks to the fabulous folks at Home Depot for the above and beyond bit,
we seriously appreciate every minute of your time and efforts.
As for our new seating, I have three words for you, Missy...

 HEEL. SIT. STAY.