Successfully building IKEA furniture made me feel like a superstar
“Yes, I could have made building my furniture a ‘fun’ Tinder date for an unsuspecting tradie (the idea crossed my mind), but it meant so much more to do it myself.”
When I moved house a few months ago I invested in a few new pieces of furniture. I finally moved into an apartment with a second bedroom that was to be my office. It made me feel very grown up and successful. (Note: ‘grown up’ and ‘successful’ are both subjective terms.)
My new apartment had room for a dinner table, needed extra storage in the bathroom and a desk for the aforementioned new office. Being a practical and somewhat time-poor person, I decided to source all required furniture from the local IKEA, because:
- Parking there is easy
- They’re open til 10pm
- It’s a one stop shop
- I’ll probably need different furniture next time I move so I don’t want to spend a fortune
The fact my handyman skills are limited didn’t stop me. I’m a smart chick, I can build flat-pack furniture.
Three trips to IKEA later (one for ideas, two to measure, three to actually buy) and I had an apartment full of boxes. With the excitement of a child on Christmas who sees the picture of the Lego town on the packaging, I got started.
I could do this. I own a purple screwdriver set.
The bathroom cabinet was surprisingly easy. No pieces of wood and the metal bits just fit together perfectly. I did pinch my hand somewhere it shouldn’t have got stuck resulting in a little blood blister, but I powered on.
The dining table and chairs took a while and required some coordination. The instructions suggested it was a two-man job, but single and stubborn me got it sorted solo.
I did end up with a tough looking blister on the palm of my hand from using the screwdriver over and over again. I was pretty proud of that to be honest. (It took almost a month to heal properly — it was a serious blister.)
As the new pieces of furniture filled my new home I felt an immense sense of pride. Now for the piece that would change my world: a new desk for my office.
The desk was my nightmare.
It had a million pieces and looked something like this…
I got the first drawer built (missed the bit that that said x2 so wondered until the very end when I was supposed to build the second drawer).
I managed to get the slidey things the drawer runs on attached in the rights spots, and then I reached a part of the instructions that made absolutely no sense. The Swedish instructions were telling me to insert little wooden stopper things into holes that didn’t exist. The picture showed a piece with about 12 holes on it. My desk side had half that many. I tried creating a hole with my screwdriver and it didn’t work.
I was about at the point where I was likely to break something by trying to ‘modify’ the IKEA pieces, so decided to call it a night.
I complained to my friends the gym the next day how IKEA had given me an undrilled piece that was causing me problems. “Are you sure you’re looking at the right piece?” a friend asked me. “They usually get that right.”
They do usually get that right. I agreed, but I was pretty sure I’d looked at every piece and none of them looked like the one in the picture.
I decided I’d take another look with fresh eyes after work. The only piece I hadn’t carefully examined was the side bit that was leaning against the wall because that’s where it would go. I’d eliminated that from my search early because I thought I knew what I was doing.
If you’ve made IKEA furniture yourself you know where this story is heading. The 12 holes, exactly where they should be, were on the back of the piece leaning on the wall. The piece I was trying to make work was the other side of the desk that didn’t need the holes I was trying to make.
Filled with a new sense of possibility in discovering that I could, in fact, figure out this construction project I set about completing the masterpiece.
And it worked!
Sure, the cupboard door is a little crooked. I could suggest it’s IKEA’s fault, but I’m pretty sure it’s because I ran out of patience making the tiny adjustments to the screws in the hinges. It opens and shuts which is exactly what a cupboard door should do.
Let me tell you, completing a project that almost defeated me filled me with a sense of achievement far greater than was probably warranted.
Yes, I could have made building my furniture a ‘fun’ Tinder date for an unsuspecting tradie (the idea crossed my mind), but it meant so much more to do it myself.
Now, when I sit at my desk to write an article that’s challenging me, or learn something I know nothing about, I’m sitting at a constant reminder that I can conquer the challenging. That’s a pretty awesome feeling.
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