How many blondes does it take...

...to put together an elliptical machine. Apparently more than just little ol' me. Damn there are a lot of little parts.

I got home yesterday to find a gigantic box on the patio, blocking the sun. Literally it weighed 200 pounds. I somehow had to get it inside. When I tried to pull the straps to tug it along, the straps broke and I literally fell backwards. Now dirty and sweating, I pushed it into the doorway but couldn't get it up and over the door frame. An added problem: I could no longer close my door. So obviously something had to be done. I decided to rip open the box and take some of the smaller pieces out in the hopes of making it a little lighter and liftable. Well, it never got THAT light, but I was finally able to shove it inside. And then couldn't close my door from the inside. Oh the humanity. Huffed and puffed and managed to push it into the middle of the den. Looks like a good spot to me.

Took a small break to wash up and go to happy hour. Maybe after a few drinks this would get easier. Or not.

Back at the homestead, I got the pieces out and tried not to start crying. Why didn't I pay the additional $100 to get someone to come assemble it? And why don't I have a boyfriend who could do this for me - er, help me do this? With bleeding and bruised hands, I spent about two hours working on this thing. And it's about halfway completed. Even busted out my never-been-used electric screwdriver, although that doesn't seem to be helping.

If I can complete this - and that's a BIG if - I'm going to buy myself something, like a toolbelt. Or something girly, like a manicure. So I can avoid future handyman tasks like this.