At first, I was too busy tackling the big issues like setting up the house, gas, and internet to worry about the little things. Once the major stuff was sorted, I started noticing those small annoyances one by one. A friend nearby lent me some kitchen tools, so that was sorted, but honestly, I had nothing else ready. The biggest issue was the back pain from tapping away on my laptop while lying on the floor or bed. Eating meals sprawled on the floor wasn’t great either. I felt like I was living like a nomad inside my own home.
I decided to buy a desk.
Since I should be ready to leave it all behind and return to Seoul without regret, there was no need to buy something fancy. Occasionally, you find furniture being given away online, but using someone else’s stuff feels a bit off. Imagine sitting on a chair once used by a convict and suddenly channeling the spirit of a serial killer from San Francisco – that would be awkward. My parents wouldn’t be thrilled either. A friend suggested IKEA, so we went together.
At the entrance of IKEA in Oakland, there were desks ranging from $50 to several hundred dollars. Although IKEA has opened in my country, I’d never visited, so I wasn’t sure if the prices matched. Getting a desk for about 50,000 won seemed pretty amazing. But with so many options, choosing was tough. Just when I’d decide on one, a better one appeared, and if I settled on that, my mind wandered back to another. Caught in this whirlwind of indecision, I ended up just having ice cream with my friend and heading home. That evening, as I was washing dishes, I realized I didn’t have a drying rack – every day was a new discovery like this – so I went to a nearby Target to buy one. There, I spotted a $49.9 desk and ended up buying it along with a cart to roll it home. (Forgot the drying rack in the process.)
When I got home and unpacked it, it was a bit overwhelming. I had to assemble it myself, like a mortician piecing together the scattered bones of a fallen soul. I’m usually not against building things, but today wasn’t the day. I wasn’t mentally prepared. As soon as I saw the parts, I regretted buying it. It was a tiring day.
‘When you can’t avoid it, enjoy it,’ they say.
I tried to convince myself, but if I’d just bought the drying rack, I wouldn’t have to deal with this. The thought of not having the drying rack kept nagging at me. Nothing was resolved. What exactly should I enjoy in this situation? Besides, Robert Elliott, who said this, was a heart specialist, not a psychiatrist. Is it okay to officially give advice outside your expertise?
Anyway, when I’m tasked with something, I tend to be meticulous and aim for perfection – though I don’t enjoy it. Even when assembling a screw, I tightened it with care, competing with an imaginary future person who might want to disassemble it. Through the process, I realized this wasn’t a product just anyone could assemble well. Although no one might care, that’s a fact. It seemed like the kind of product that would get a review saying, ‘I had to give it one star because I couldn’t give zero.’
The manual just had a single line as a guide, saying ‘combine this plywood with that wooden pole,’ but the unfamiliar screws didn’t give a clue on how they’d work. I thought putting together a desk would be as simple as tightening four screws for the legs, but it was surprising how complex it was with so many parts to attach. Since each component was only provided once, if one broke, it was game over. Every step was a point of no return. People who aren’t into DIY might give up halfway. Even though I perfectly finished assembling the desk, I vowed never to buy flat-pack furniture again.
Anyway, I hope to quickly forget the memory of wrestling with that one misaligned screw for 15 minutes. 😅
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