The desk is done.
Knock, knock..."come on in J."
Mr upper-body-strength strolls in, takes a look at the bits all over the floor.
What is it again?
"A computer desk."
I show him the picture instruction sheet and he tosses it back at me.
"You know I can't follow these things; just tell me where to put the screws, where to put the little dowel thingys."
So I tell and he constructs.
40 minutes and it's done.
"You need better quality screwdrivers, these are crap. Did you make the spag bol?"
M couldn't come with me, the baby's got an ear infection."
He swallows a huge bowlful.
"Are you going to eat those leftovers?"
"Can I take them home?"
"Thanks missus. See ya."
My son's best mate. Through thick and thin, these boys, (men really, both 30 something), stick together.
Telling A Label Fable
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