The Inner Monologue Of Assembling IKEA Furniture By Yourself

It’s just IKEA. Everybody knows that it’s only a few snaps and tiny metal tools away from being done. This will take 30 minutes, tops.

The box seems really heavy. Maybe I should grab something else and just leave it in my car for a while.

Okay, fine. I’ll go back down and see if it’s still too heavy.

It’s still too heavy.

I haven’t worked out since that one time at university when all of the girls in my dorm decided to go to the gym after we partied until 3am.

It only took five minutes of the stair-climber before I threw up copious amounts of cheap rum.

I almost think it tasted better the second time. Yeah, it was that cheap.

I seriously need to be able to get this bookshelf up the stairs.

It’s only three floors. I hope no one notices me just standing at the bottom of the stairs next to an unusually long cardboard box that I could just barely get out of my car.

The guy down the hall probably won’t even see you. Chelsea, stop freaking out about your neighbors.

The guy down the hall isn’t a feminist. When I said I was a feminist, he got all weird and said that he’s an “equalist,” and then asked me if my favorite animal is a lion. Maybe I should stop telling people I’m a feminist on first dates. Was it a date?

Good thing I never told him my last name or he might find out that I’m going to write about him.

I live alone. I totally have to do this on my own.

I won’t wait for my parents to come visit some weekend to get my awesome new bookshelf up. I am not dependent! I don’t need anyone’s help!

Now there is some muscly guy on Facebook saying that having a man around wouldn’t be so bad after all.

I shouldn’t have posted about my overall physical weakness or my stupid IKEA bookshelf. It’s just IKEA. It’s not Facebook status worthy. They do have stylish and affordable pieces, though.

The bookshelf is now up the stairs! That wasn’t even that bad. I only had to take one break, and no one saw me panting or muttering various swear words to my apartment door while fumbling for my key.

Um, there are a lot of pieces. Isn’t this supposed to just snap together like all of the other furniture in my place did? My yellow couch was seriously a two-step deal.

Why aren’t there actual words in these instructions? These giant hands with pointing fingers are not helping me.

I bet I’m burning a lot of calories by doing this. I should probably have an apple afterward to feel even healthier. Maybe I should walk to the store to get Greek yogurt! Shoot, no. I forgot. I’m lactose intolerant.

Wow. This thing is starting to look really good, but I’m still not quite sure where it will go.

Why does this piece of furniture require a hammer? After I smashed my thumb with a hammer when I was 4, I don’t really know if I can relive something like that again. I don’t even think I have a first-aid kit here.

This bookshelf is way taller than I thought it would be. My plants are going to look so good on it, getting sunlight, but not direct sunlight. Definitely the perfect amount of sunlight for these plants.

I am so proud of myself. I didn’t ask anyone for help. The shelf is up. It looks so good.

Oh geez, I made a real mess. If I need help with anything in my life, it’s to clean up every now and then.

Oh wait, no, I can do that on my own too. I am a strong, independent woman who assembles her own IKEA furniture. Take that, Mr. Sometimes It’s Nice to Have a Man Around.