It had been two hard-fought hours, but after all the frustration, anger, and tears, it was finally done. The black laquered obelisk he’d seen in his visions was complete.

He relaxed into the couch and gazed upon his shiny accomplishment. It looked just like the picture, for the most part. As yet unburdened by electonics and media (still stacked in the corner), the pristine horizontals were perfect canvases for diagonal slashes of sunlight slicing through the vertical blinds. He wished he had a camera, but it was in the other room, and he didn’t feel like getting up.

“What are these?”

His wife had somehow sneaked into the living room behind his back and was pointing at a handful of screws and pegs on the carpet.

“Extra pieces,” he said.

Her face turned to steel (metaphorically). “Ikea doesn’t give extra pieces,” she said. “They intend you to use everything.”

“I didn’t need everything,” he said with a cute inflection. “I’m efficient.”

But his inflection wasn’t cute enough. “More efficient than the Swedes? I highly doubt that. Take it apart and put it together right. And this time, read the directions.” As she said that, the baby started crying so she left to go do whatever it was she did that made the baby stop crying, leaving him alone with his nearly-perfect creation.

Rebuild the entertainment center… did she even have the vaguest clue how insane that was?!