Like Father, Like Son

Ron Nagasawa
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Wednesday - July 16, 2008
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Although our 19-year-old son is only home from college during the summer, his mother - like most, I guess - is concerned with his comfort. That means the convertible couch-futon-bunk bed we bought him nearly 10 years ago had to be replaced.

While our son can live in even the most Spartan conditions, his complaints about feeling the metal bar frame through the now-thin futon fell on the ears of my wife. We were immediately commissioned to find a new bed for our son.

We seriously patronize MidWeek advertisers, so most of our furniture has come from HomeWorld, INspiration, City Mill and even Disco Mart. In this case, INspirations was running a floor clearance sale, so we decided to look there for a new bed while saving a couple of bucks in the process.

Going furniture shopping is like grocery shopping when you’re really hungry. There is the urge to buy all kinds of stuff that you don’t really need. We found the perfect bed for our son and ended up buying a frame, mattress, headboard bookshelf and a cabinet nightstand.

When paying for the furniture, I was told that the floor model wasn’t available, but that I could pick up a brand new set at the floor model price from their warehouse. To me, this means the furniture is unassembled. To have it assembled would cost us a percentage of the purchase price.

My wife, who has past experience to draw from, jumped on that alternative, but I stepped in and said that I could assemble it myself. So my son and I picked up the boxes of furniture and took it home. The furniture was made in Denmark, and while it had instructions, there were no words.

The last time my son and I did anything even close to this was years ago when I was putting together a LEGO Star Wars spaceship, which ended up looking like a Picasso nightmare. Anyway, I tossed the instructions aside and told my son that we would do it using our manly instincts.

It was 2 a.m.when we finally completely the assembly. As we were wrapping things up, my wife walked in to check on us. Unbeknownst to me, there was a big pile of screws, bolts, nuts, pegs and parts on the floor. She started to question, “How come there’s all these parts leftover?”

Our son, who was already sprawled out on the bed, mumbled, “Those are backup parts that you never see when furniture is factory assembled.”


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