Gerald had been staring at the instruction manual for forty-five minutes when he finally admitted the bookshelf was winning.
"It's simple," his wife Linda had said cheerfully before leaving for her book club. "Just follow the pictures."
The pictures, Gerald decided, had been drawn by a sadist.
He got down on his knees to rummage through the enormous plastic bag of hardware, flinging tiny bolts and mysterious washers across the carpet like a man possessed. After overturning the entire bag, he located what he needed — one solitary screw, which promptly rolled under the couch.
"Oh, come ON," Gerald announced to no one.
He retrieved a butter knife from the kitchen, lay completely flat on the hardwood floor, and began fishing blindly beneath the couch. He retrieved a pen he'd lost in 2019, fourteen dust bunnies, and one very surprised cat named Biscuit.
Biscuit regarded Gerald with profound disgust.
Gerald regarded Biscuit likewise.
Eventually, the screw emerged. Gerald installed it triumphantly, stood up, and stepped back to admire his work. The bookshelf stood magnificently upright for approximately three seconds before tilting dramatically to the left and depositing every shelf onto the floor with a magnificent crash.
Linda walked in at that exact moment, surveying the wreckage, the scattered hardware, the traumatized cat, and her husband sitting cross-legged among the ruins with the instruction manual on his head.
"How's it going?" she asked.
"Fantastic," said Gerald. "Absolutely fantastic."