Day 15 Reading Directions

I hate reading directions. I'm a man and I don't have time for that shit. Men just know how things work or how things are supposed to go together. 

Each "some assembly required" box has a list of instructions (often in a language we don't know... like French) and a list of tools. First off, that list of tools is seldom complete so a real man grabs his Leatherman, a pocket knife, a cheese grater and some duct tape. Next step is to pull everything out of the box. 3rd step, find directions and check the language. If the first 8 words look familiar, keep for future referral.... if not, throw that shit out and man up! It's what we do! We're men doing men shit.

 
I thought that once when my wife and I bought this killer ''do it yourself" shed kit. It came will all of these brackets so there weren't any difficult angles to figure out. All you had to do was buy a shit load of 2x4's, some ply wood and a box of screws. I bust out the compound miter saw (extreme man shit) and begin chopping chunks of 2x4 to the lengths I felt were necessary. I get to looking at the brackets and they were all self explanatory, so I get to work screwing wood to brackets and brackets to wood.

The wife comes out to check on me because she heard a few "God damn its" and "son of a bitches". She thought something was wrong... she wasn't aware of the "Man Shit Doctrine" that requires every man building a shed to be either smoking a cigarette or having a chew of Copenhagen, drinking a good cold beer and cussing just for the sake of cussing. You know, the "Man Shit Doctrine". (It's in the hand book ladies, and if you didn't receive one you can blame your mother... not your guy.)

I take another big chew of Copenhagen, kill another Bud Light (nectar of the Gods) and glare at my wife because I know damned well what I am doing. The next thing that happens is, as a man, you start mumbling under your breath... "look at me like I don't know what I am doing... I'm a God damned man, lady!" As usual, she nods with approval but has that look.... you know the one where it looks like she doubts you? Yup. That one. 

Now I am back at it cutting more wood and screwing more shit together all the while killing about 4 more cold cans of "nectar". All of the 2x4's are all cut to MY length and I set up the saw horses to cut the plywood again, to MY length. I cuss a bit more, take another chew and start putting shit in line to be assembled. I look at all of my work and am amazed! This shit is looking good!

I go in the house and inform my beautiful wife of the incredible progress being made in the yard and assure her that we will soon have the best, bomb proof shed in the neighborhood. I remind her that all of our neighbors have these ramshackle looking aluminum sheds with dents and peeling paint. Again, she nods with approval and says "Good job Honey". Under my breath I say, "You're God damned right its a good job!" I grab a beer out of the fridge because I kicked over and broke the cheap ass Styrofoam ice chest I had in the yard and am more determined to have this thing built by lunch, since things appear to be going along swimmingly.

Assembly begins . All brackets are screwed to all 2x4's, all plywood is cut to MY custom length and the metal roofing I got for free is all prepped. It looks good, so I take another chew and start assembling the sides. At first I thought things looked a bit weird so I did some more swearing, chewing and beer drinking but I kept after it, because I am a man...God Damn it!

At about 2 p.m., I realize that I am going to miss the self imposed noon dead line so I head in the house to further contemplate what is starting to look like a train wreck and eat a bologna sandwich... that's right! Man shit! I tell the wife that there may or may not be some complications but not to worry because "I am on this shit!" Again, she nods the nod of approval, tells me she loves me and sends my ass back to the yard recharged!

The sides are up, the roof brackets are up and all of the fire blocking is in.... This God damned thing looks like something off of "Blue's Clues" or a Dr. Seuss book. The sides bow out, then up, then back in... the roof brackets are about 16 feet off the ground and I don't have a ladder. Now the real cussing begins.... "Stupid ass saw" I say as I throw it across the yard. "God damned 2x4's must be faulty and those brackets are pieces of shit!" I walk over and kick the remaining chunk of Styrofoam from the cooler and let loose with a 2 minute swear word montage that I cannot replicate in print.... mostly because I was 2/3's drunk. I kick the bowed out side wall and break a toe. More cussing... Then I hear the door open. Here comes the wife acting like she is going to help. She doesn't get it. Building sheds is man shit... she's a woman.

She looks at "Cindy Loo Who's Chalet" that I have apparently built and chuckles a little.... Every man knows what that means and my blood begins to boil! Before she can get a word out, she grabs the "instructions" and I tell her "the instructions are in French, the wood is faulty, the screws suck, I cut myself with the dumb ass saw... I need a beer" and stomp into the house. Now she's laughing her ass off. "Honey?' I hear her sweetly say.... I don't answer because I'm a man! "Honey, please come here" I hear her say, so I step out on the porch and look at her with one eyebrow cocked up higher than the other. To myself I think, "I bet she thinks she has this thing all figured out" and I chuckle again. Here she is, reading the "French" instructions. I've known the woman for 5 years at this point and know all too well she doesn't know French.

She grabs the screw gun, slaps it in reverse and starts undoing some of my handy work. I laugh and tell her she's out of her league. She takes down one side, part of the roof and then all of the brackets on the other side. She looks at the instructions and asks for the saw, so me being the man and knowing everything I say, 'if you're so smart you'd know where the saw is...." She laughs again and walks to the neighbors yard, where the saw had landed. (This is where I think... oh shit, she is smart, knows me really well or both.) She plugs the saw in and starts chopping 4 inch pieces off of all of the sides. I shake my head and tell her if she keeps at it, we'll need to be back at the lumber yard getting more defective-ass 2x4's. That doesn't stop her. She's measuring, shes cutting and she's screwing shit back together.

By now, I've had 5 more beers and am now the smartest son of a bitch in the neighborhood. A neighbor drives by and laughs at me.... It's like she called the guy and told him that I didn't have a clue. She looks at the French instructions again and gets back to sawing and screwing shit back together again! I can't take it. She's messing up my tools, using them wrong, not cussing and making what looks like progress! I ain't having it. I step off the porch and miss the steps and land on my chin in the driveway. My beer rolls within 3 feet of where the saw did when I threw it.

I hear her make some kind of a snort noise and it dawned on me later that she stifled a laugh. She regains her composure and says, "are you okay" to which I hollered "shore gerd dimmed right me okay" as I pluck gravel out of the palms of my hands. "How do you know how to read French, smart ass?"....... She looks, smiles and says..."when you turn the directions over honey, you'll see that they are in English." She neatly stacks all of the wood in neat stacks all the same length and in some kind of "French" order. All of the brackets are just as neatly stacked. She pats me on the shoulder, tells me she loves me and hands me 2 pieces of wood and a bracket. "Screw those together" she says. And I do, just to prove to her that she is wrong. This happens about 30 more times and it is obvious that she is simply outclassed by man shit.

She hands me other brackets and tells me to screw them to the longer pieces of wood. And I do it, just to please her and get her away from my shed, so I can fix it tomorrow because it is way too late now to get finished...since we are doing it her way. She grabs another stack of wood and tells me to screw it to the pieces already put together. By now, through my drunken stupor I being to sense that she knew something I didn't. "Stand that giant thing on its side" she says like a job foreman so I do it. I'd obviously lost control of this job site. She stands her end up and it matches mine in the middle. Damned if it doesn't look like the unfinished walls of a shed.... I start to doubt my manhood and "man shit" all together.

"Screw the top together while I hold it all up...." I start to cry. "I don't want to do this shit anymore!" I scream. "Big sissie" the neighbor girl says, and I know she's talking to me so I go to the house for another beer. The crying stops in about 30 minutes just in time for all of the beer to be gone. The wife must have had a few.

I look through the window and see my wife admiring a shed, all put together minus the roof being on and I watch her start to put the tools in the new shed. I come out and tell her I am sorry for acting like a 'big sissie' and I flip the neighbor's daughter off. "I know" she says and gives me that nod of approval again. "Are you going to need help putting the roof on?" she says. "Yes please."

At dark, the shed is complete and I am getting a hangover. I sit on the couch and watch her go through the files of her digital camera, laughing her ass off. Tears are streaming down her face as she appears to be getting more and more hysterical. She walks up to me with a picture of the Dr. Seuss house I built. I'm shamed.... I feel lower than worm shit. She pats me on my head and tells me she loves me. I love her too, not because she reads directions though! I love her because she hasn't killed me yet.

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