DIY = 'Destroy It Yourself'

I got a new desk because my old one broke from me banging my head against it. That makes three this year.

Three desks, not three heads. My head's holding out fine. I could probably hammer out another couple of columns before a doctor has to fish out a pen light and check if my pupils are the same size.

The desks are the issue. They have to be. I follow the assembly instructions to the letter.

I put the screwy pieces into the screwy holes and slot the square pieces into the square holes and chuck the triangular pieces wherever they need to be chucked.

They're in a box in the basement. That's where I keep the rest of the bits and bobs that I don't need.

Until, of course, I need one. Then I go down to the basement, find the box, rummage for the piece I want, try to jam it into a trapezoidal hole (who designs these things?) and end up buying a new desk.

They keep giving out on me. I've had longer working relationships with gnats.

Well, last week I got fed up with being irritated. Or maybe it's the other way around. And I bought a metal-reinforced desk.

This bad boy better be the bomb, because it sure blew a hole in my wallet.

Today it arrived. I opened the box and took a peek. As an experienced builder, I immediately spied that there were many desk-y-looking parts inside.

There was also an instruction manual that was about 27 pages long. None of them were in English.

This did not daunt me. As I have often mentioned, I can be chilled steel, except for when I'm nervous.

With a screwdriver in hand, I poked at the desk parts. They didn't stir. This was a good sign. You want to establish authority over the things you're building.

I got silent acquiescence from the thing. I knew we understood each other. I felt we could work together.

I pushed the circular parts into the circular holes and stuck the spirally parts into the spirally holes and even jammed the knobby parts into the knobby holes.

Then I realized the knob-looking things were wheels, so I took them out of the drawers and added them beneath the legs.

Don't laugh. They looked the same on the diagram.

When I finished, the desk looked beautiful. There was just one problem. It was upside down.

The solution, obviously, was to take the desk apart and build it again in the right direction. It was a quality desk. I had put it together once already. It definitely would have served for years.

But I am not one for repeating my steps. I prefer the road less taken.

With my left hand, I grabbed a leg. With my right, I got a good grip on the flat side of the desk. I heaved. I got it most of the way up. Then I dropped it.

It hadn't even hit the floor before it disintegrated into a thousand pieces. I spent the next hour chasing down broken screws that I ended up chucking into the box in the basement.

I should've remembered the saying. If it ain't broke, fix it 'til it is.

Alexandra Paskhaver is a software engineer and writer. Both jobs require knowing where to stick semicolons, but she's never quite; figured; it; out.

Previously:
• 06/26/24: All in a day's work
• 05/23/24: The state of the art
• 05/16/24: Rounding one's corners
• 03/22/24: Gone loopy
• 03/05/24: Philosophy rocks