Tuesday night was a big night in our house. It was game 4 of the NBA Eastern Conference finals. John is a huge Miami Heat fan, has been for years (he's from Florida, the pour soul) so when they were on TV all life stops for him. As it did Tuesday night. Even though we agreed this was the night we were going to put the IKEA bed slats together.
"We could do it while watching the game!" He said triumphantly. Now, John had shoulder surgery a mere 10 days ago, so the putting together of anything would rest solely on my shoulder/back/knees. But I was confident that he could help some. I was wrong. For two hours this is how it went:
Me reading the instructions: You want to screw those two boards together.
John: Uh huh. Ok.
Me: John! Pay attention! Screw those two boards together.
John: Uh huh. Ok. I am.
Me: Forget it, give it to me!
I managed to put a whole side of the bed together which is no small feat. It was a pain in my mother-fucking ass to tell you the truth. I had to not only screw the boards together, but insert each slat into the rubbery thingys. So I did it and grumbled under my breath the whole time. And I might add IKEA's instructions are no joke. They are easy if you have common sense and aren't overly pissed off at your husband for not helping when he obviously said he would.
Me grumbling under my breath: Help me, my ass. Stupid basketball game. I hate you LeBron for keeping his attention while all I needed him to do was screw a few screws. But we managed... no wait... I managed to get it done. Yay me!
Now that the basketball game was over (Go Heat!) my shoulder/back/knees and ass hurt like hell and I wanted a break.
John: Let me finish it.
Me: Hell no. You have only one working arm, I'll do the rest later as I watch The Voice.
10pm rolls around and The Voice starts, not without a few squeals from me because I love this show. And this is why:
Oh yea baby.
I start on the bed slats, slowly. My friend Erin starts texting me. Erin had surgery last week and is on her "happy drugs" which I can only assume in really strong and wonderfully euphoric pain pills. My joke back to her before the show started:
"You got your happy drugs, I'm going to watch mine tonight!"
So, at 10, Erin texts: I'm watching your happy drug while under the influence of my happy drug!
If you know me, and I assume you don't, when I text, all the world stops while I send my texts. Don't talk to me because I can't concentrate on two things at once. Don't look over my shoulder and read what I'm writing because I will punch you in the face. And heaven forbid if you should ask me what I'm saying because I will throw anything within my reach at you.
So, The Voice is on, I'm looking at this:
and I'm texting. But wait, I was supposed to be doing something, right? Oh yea...
But I can't concentrate. Something better is on the screen. But, I promised to get this finished so I can sleep soundly for the night and not sleep on broken slats and wake up with my back on fire. My sleep is precious, but this is more precious...
My text to Erin: Humina humina humina. And he's all scruffy. I think I'm gonna pass out.
Me to Erin: UNF......
Erin to me: LOL, my poor friend!
John at me very loudly: How many more slats do you need? Pay attention! I thought you wanted to sleep on this tonight.
Oh yea... I completely forgot where I was.
Needless to say, 11pm rolled around--too soon I might add because I spent almost an hour waiting for any small camera shot of this:
And my bed slats still looked like this
Of course, if John had paid attention during that damn basketball game they would have been done. I'm just sayin', it's not my fault.
Oh, and just for effect, lets see this one more time:
Oh yea, baby.
All photos of Adam Levine are courtesy of The Voice on NBC. Just got to give credit where credit is due. :)
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