Due to some impending garden landscaping, our impossible-to-assemble trampoline was required to be disassembled and moved, temporarily, to a different location. The 'different location' is 'my parents' back garden', given that they are a) the ones who bought the bloody thing, and b) no-one else will have it as it is IMPOSSIBLE-TO-ASSEMBLE.
The Architect disassembled the trampoline with the help of our daughters. This, clearly, was far easier than the assembly, which is IMPOSSIBLE and DESIGNED INTENTIONALLY TO SEND YOU CRAZY.
|I HATE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW|
I transported the pieces of trampoline to my parents' place, where they waited eagerly, tools in hand. (Okay, so my mother was drinking a cup of tea and my father was asleep on his bed, but they were sweetly eager in spirit.)
The first part of the trampoline was simple to assemble, because the manufacturers are EVIL and TRYING TO TRICK YOU. My mother and I got the base up and attached part of the mat, and then things went hideously, catastrophically wrong.
For a start, we lost the special tool you need to pull the springs that attach the mat to the base. My mother, who is endlessly resourceful, fashioned a tool out of a metal clamp, which seemed to do the trick. However, very shortly thereafter, it became clear that we were simply not strong enough to pull the springs into place. My father was summoned to come and lend some Man Power to the operation. This irritated my 13 year old son, who felt deeply offended that we had not thought to seek his help, but the entire task was clearly beyond him as it was IMPOSSIBLE.
My parents and I laboured for over an hour in the scorching summer heat, trying all sorts of techniques to get the RIDICULOUS STUPID SPRINGS into the BLOODY CRAZY-MAKING HOLES. We failed. At one point, I was lying on the grass underneath the trampoline trying to assist with navigation as my mother wept in despair above me and my father complained of chest pains.
We still failed.
After a further five minutes, my parents quit the trampoline in a cloud of rage and disgust. I looked sadly at the pile of springs and decided to take my five year old for a walk whilst my mother took to her bed and my father locked himself in his study.
I returned after half an hour, and my 11 year old daughter greeted me at the door.
"Mummy, come see what we did!" she cried.
I called my parents and we all proceeded to the backyard. The trampoline was fully assembled. My two children had assembled it. They had done the impossible. And they said it was "easy".
I hate that trampoline. I do. I really do. But I love my children. If they can assemble that trampoline, they can cure cancer and save the earth from meteors. And I feel very lucky to have them.
I wish that trampoline would go and spontaneously combust, though. I hate it.