Pre-Assembled Is A Must

Some people feel lonely when watching a romantic movie and there's nobody around to hold hands with. Some feel it when cooking a meal for one. And some people relish personal time, and they enjoy the freedom to cry at a cheesy movie, or to make an entire bag of brussel sprouts with sauerkraut and grilled tofu sprinkled on top. (This isn't about judging me, okay?)

I think that each bit of loneliness, however it is received, makes a person a better half when the time comes. A little more competent. A little more confident. Self-sufficient and definitely more appreciative. Because, how does someone know if they are with the right one, unless they feel right as one? What good is the perfect bike if you haven't mastered riding one?

And it can be scary, while being good. I wonder if I'll find someone more versatile and entertaining than my DVR... or, gasp, someone I actually want to hand the remote over to. But it doesn't stop me from enjoying the lack of compromise right now.

And then there are nights like I experienced a few nights ago. A night where there is nothing that can bring you down, and then you are laying on the floor of rock bottom wondering how the hell you got there. I wonder, at least. I would like my condition to be recognized: The complete inability to put things together. I would totally buy a little silver pill in the shape of a screw and hope for the best. I wouldn't even ask my insurance to go fifty-fifty with me.

In a lot of ways, I am independent and self-supporting. I carried a heavy box inside all by myself, while not scratching my new purse, not denting my pedicure, and carrying my new vase and stones inside. (Practically she-woman, yes.) And as I assertively open that big new box, housing a worthless "fan," I pull out each piece with vigor and excitement. The directions, at first glance, are in Manglish. (Not fair. Many of my female friends have helped me assemble small pieces as I have proven to be incompetent.) But still, a language I am incapable of reading or following.

Let me put this condition into perspective: I own The Magic Bullet but haven't used it yet, because the idea of screwing the wrong pieces together frustrate me enough to just go out and buy whatever I had been momentarily inspired to make myself. I have given new pictures away, because the back pieces that attach to the nail on the wall first needed to be attached to the frame, and that is inconceivable. I have a beautiful new shower head, sitting in plastic for the past six months, because I don't want to chance screwing it in improperly. 

So, after a little bit of confusion, I put all of the stupid, clumsy, and vague fan pieces away. Dragged the box out of plain view and I felt lonelier than I have in a long time.  And if Honeywell and I weren't so completely over, I would tell them I would have paid double for a pre-assembled fan.