For Christmas this year Santa brought Jen an elliptical trainer, a piece of exercise equipment that she had been wanting for some time now, especially with the weather turning cold. Unfortunately, Santa was too cheap to pay the extra money to have the machine assembled, and thus upon our return to South Bend, a box the size of a small car lay waiting for me to open and assemble.
In retrospect, I should have heeded the number of warning signs that presented themselves upon opening the instruction manual. Firstly, it was closer to a small novel than an instruction manual, and contained technical drawings that appeared more appropriate to the design of a small jet engine than an exercise machine. 
Secondly, the first line of the manual provided the phone number to call in order to employ service agents to assemble the machine for you…not a good sign at all...but one that was easy to ignore if you looked cross eyed at the page. After standing in front of the mirror for a few moments holding a hammer and reaffirming my masculinity, I embarked on this tremendous project.
An hour later I stood observing my handy work, an empty box and our floor covered in a multitude of parts that I had no idea how to put together. After a stiff drink, and another trip to the mirror, I persisted and began to piece together this Rubik’s cube of an exercise machine. 
Haunted by images of Jen flying through a window as one of the steps falls apart, I carefully read and reread each of the instruction panels, and by two hours into my adventure I had assembled something that looked vaguely like a dishwasher. Undeterred, and with some critical assistance from Jen, we added the final few parts to the puzzle and voila…we had a fully assembled elliptical trainer…and it had only taken five hours…a sprained back…two blisters…half a bottle of gin…a few
tears…and some good ol’ fashion ‘hit it until it fits’. Now, with Jen at work, I am free to watch Oprah and tone and strengthen all my 'problem areas'.
Picture 2: Place the what in the where?
Picture 3: Assuming the fetal position...
Picture 4: Just plain scared...
Picture 5: Victory...and masculinity reaffirmed
4 comments:
errol you are changing and it is becoming disturbing especially your outfits!!!
Dude, that last picture was so unnecessary!
Time is money. Just think what you could've saved yourself (on a few levels) by buying Jen the American version of Jake/Shelley, with a leash to go with it. A few circles around your place, and she'll be set. And if Jen is truly a wild and crazy gal, think of all the daily adventures of walking in that God-Awful snow. If you can get a relative of Jake, you won't have to worry about him realizing the sad state of his existence in snow country. He wouldn't even know it! The hidden blessings of not playing with a full deck :o) BTW, we're sort of catching up to you - it snowed in Malibu yesterday! Tell Chickadee I said hi! Miss you guys! Hope all is well. Jake and Shelley don't need brains - they have their looks. They're adorable!
No smart-ass comment is necessary here. But I wanted you to know that I saw it, and I loved it.
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