Allow me to tell you a little story:

Once there was a girl who ordered, from a carpenter, a sofa table.

Upon its arrival the table was found to be broken in several spots. One of which being the place where the legs screw in.

So unless rather than a table the girl wanted a really big TV tray, this table needed to be repaired.

An e-mail to the seller was less than helpful and firmly supported the idea that the girl try and put the table back together with some wood glue and clamps.

He also advised it would be helpful to use a small drill bit and a long screw to reinforce the gluing.

Here the girls head nearly exploded as she wondered why, if she had a drill and bits and screws and were a bloody carpenter, she would pay someone else to make for her a table rather than doing that shit herself.

But I digress.

Anyway.

After a trip to Home Depot and an hour of trying to piece the table back together the girl, who hates puzzles and is not good at them, decided to call a furniture repairman who advises her to bring the thing on down. Anytime. Today, tomorrow.

Ok !

Perhaps this is our stories hero, no?

Now develop a picture in your mind of the girl, just over five feet, maneuvering from her third floor walk-up apartment and down to the parking lot, a nearly seven foot long table top. This she shoved into the trunk, through the backseat, and into the passenger side front seat of her Hyundai Elantra. All the while muttering curses under her breath and sweating like a whore in church in the 100+ degree Texas heat.

Very nice.

And through this whole mess the girl did not cry, not a tear, even though she is, after all, a girl and prone to reacting in this way to such things.

That is she did not cry, not a tear, until sitting down on the couch with a ginger ale and leftover take-out and opening a fortune cookie bearing the message : You Love a good challenge.

At which point the girl started laughing, a bit maniacally, and was soon sobbing and snotting through bites of cold rice and tofu with basil and mixed vegetables.

Great story, huh ?

So now the table is in my car, and I pretty much hate the fucking thing for being such a pain in the ass. But I am going to drive it way the hell across town and see 1) if it is fixable and 2) how much, mister ?

Total suck.

Also adding to my total suck is the fact that I am here alone and feeling quite sorry for myself and wondering why it is that after more than a year I still have not one single friend in this whole town.

And also thinking that probably the man I live with will find his one true love in France and make top secret plans to marry her later this week. (Boy does like to move things fast, you know.) Or at least spend the week with her hidden away in his hotel room and ignoring my calls.

Heh.

(Sadly I am only half kidding that these are the things that cross my mind. Maybe more like one third kidding.)

And so, my friends, I leave you with this little glimpse into my damaged psyche and am off to catch another hour or so of sleep before I trek deep into South Austin in search of the end to my table dilemma

Nighty night.