Last Sunday my sister and I had to go get her desk from her co-worker’s house and move it to our house so that she could start working from home on Monday. That sounds simple enough doesn’t it? Not hardly.
The desk that we had to move was one that the Preacher built for her several years ago. Yes, the Preacher is a carpenter just like Jesus. I have my doubts about whether or not he is as good a carpenter as Jesus was though. Maybe it’s just things that he makes for his family. He does a really good job when making things for other people.
This desk that he made for Fallen Angel is eight feet long and L-shaped. It was a nice desk and it served its purpose well. When he built it my sister was living in my parent’s basement. The basement is about 1,000 square feet and fully finished. The desk was in the basement living room which is huge and had no walls to really get in the way. The same is not true for out small house that we are renting.
To get to Fallen Angel’s home office you have to go through a tiny hallway and around two corners. I’m not very good at geometry or any kind of mathematical computations, but even I knew that there was little to no chance in hell of getting that desk into that room in one piece.
Once we got the desk off of the back of the truck and into the living room we did make an initial attempt at getting it into her office. No matter how hard we tried, there was no way it was going to fit through the hallway and around both corners. So we did what we normally do when faced with such a dilemma. We sat down and put our thinking caps on. We sat and we stared at each other with blank looks on our faces. You see, Fallen Angel is a blond and that gave me little hope, and I’m a redhead, so my ideas all involved smashing it to bits and putting it outside for the trash man to pick up.
After about an hour of sitting and thinking we decided that if we took out the middle support leg then we might be able to get it around the corners.
Immediate problem: the Preacher had stapled the damn desk together and we couldn’t find the hammer to pull it apart.
Solution: call Fallen Angel’s old man and ask him to bring us a hammer.
Result: he brought us the crappiest old hammer he could find and immediately left. He didn’t even bother to stay and help us. Fallen Angel was very pissed off at him.
So with hammer in hand we started trying to pry the leg off the desk. Then we realized that the wood brace underneath was on top of the leg. We couldn’t just pry the leg off. Time to sit and think again.
After another hour of thinking we called her old man back and asked if he had a hand saw. He was drunk by that time and inadvertently or not inadvertently hung up on her without answering the question.
With no hope in sight and time running out she decided to go to the local discount store and see if they had a saw. I watched Little Bubba while she went on the mission.
An hour later she comes back with a load of stuff, including a cheap electric saw. We flipped the desk over and started putting the saw together. Then we realized that the cord on the electric saw was coming apart right where it connects to the saw. My sister, being the blond brain surgeon that she thinks she is, decided that she could just fix the wires and with the help of my handy-dandy electrical tape that I had in my tool box, she would fix the cord. Desperation had begun setting in.
She puts the wires together, tapes the cord, and then Little Bubba and I stood back while she plugged it in. Snap! Crackle! Pop! Yep, it was a goner. We boxed it back up to take back to the store, but by then the store was closed. Great. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and we were desperate. We made the difficult decision to drive twenty minutes to the nearest 24-hour Wal-mart to get a saw.
Once we got the saw and got back home I sawed off the middle leg on the desk. We tried again to get it through the hallway. Nope. That wasn’t going to work either. Now what? Out of pure frustration my sister begins ripping off the boards that served as legs on the ends of the desk. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked. Finally we were able to get the desk into the office. Granted, it no longer had anything to hold it up, but no worries, we had screws and an electric screwdriver.
After doing a half-assed job screwing the legs back on we managed to get the desk upright and into place. Praise Jesus!
Wait. There’s no way to get her computer connected to the internet. The wireless adapter that I had bought wasn’t working on her computer. The DSL modem that is connected to the one phone jack in the house was way too far away to run a lan cable into her office. But wait! Again, my sister, Blondie herself, thought up a plan. We would move the modem to the back porch, run a lan cable out the back window, across the corner of the house, and into the window of her office. Mission accomplished.
During this little adventure in woodworking several questions came up. Why did the Preacher build a desk that would not fit anywhere except his basement? Why was my sister dating an old man who wouldn’t even volunteer to help two damsels in distress? How do we keep Little Bubba from getting bonked in the head while we flipped and rotated the desk countless times? Why don’t we just trash it and use the folding table that is already in the office? They were all valid questions, but we had no answers. We still have no answers.
And so went the night that the Preacher’s Daughters tried to play woodshop. We may not have über woodworking skills, or basic mechanics down pat, but we sure know how to use pure brute force when necessary.
Happy humping & always unplug your power tools before fixing the wiring!