I am currently sitting at a large, armoire-type piece of computer-holding, file cabinet, storage drawered, shelved furniture. It is substantial, and it is somewhat impressive. The impressive part is that I put it together myself, with instructions by IKEA.

I have discovered over the 36 years of my marriage that any piece of furniture that arrives at my home in a large, flat box will be put together by only one member of the family, usually me. The other members are only allowed in an area beyond an approximate three-mile radius. The one who is putting the furniture together (me again) is allowed a full weekend to complete the project, during which he or she is also allowed an unlimited number of the following:

1. Stitches

2. Well-placed curse words, uttered with emphasis

3. Alcoholic beverages, to be ingested only after 90% of said furniture is completed

4. Trips to the hardware store to find a screw that almost matches the one you lost

5. Trips to the drug store for pain killers and bandages

6. Trips to neighbors' homes or yards for momentary consolation

7. Trips to the doctor for item #1

8. Loudly uttered congratulatory phrases from others upon completion of the project

With that in mind, let me tell you about putting together my computer desk, which is what it said it was on the box. The one that I saw at IKEA about four years ago was very nice, went with my old house and its furnishings, and couldn't, I thought, be all that hard to create. After all, I had constructed a couple of IKEA tables, and a few chairs. This should not be all that different.

In fact, I lied about the one box. It took two boxes to hold the pieces of computer desk which was to adorn my den, and a third box to contain all of the hardware components. The first two boxes were very large, and incredibly heavy. The third was small, and heavy. My first project was getting them from my car to the second floor of my house. Since all other family members had been banished for the duration of my "build," I was on my own.

Happily I had discovered the "Thump and Twirl" method of stepping a large box from the back of my car to my front porch. From there a bit of "Shove and Slide" technique got the vast weight up the steps and into the house. Going to the second floor next meant going up a two-step landing, a nine-step slant of about 45 degrees, another landing, and five more steps to the top. This necessitated a "Flop and Drag," followed by a "Shove and Grunt," back to a "Drag and Scream," and ending in a "Slam and Jam."

Then I took a nap.

After the respite, I opened the boxes and dug out the directions. I will say that IKEA directions are relatively easy to follow, at least when compared to some furnishing items I have received with directions that have obviously been book-translated from a far-eastern dialect or two. I have been told to "place the panel marked 'B' into the slot marked with an arrow (red) and tightly move into position over the panel marked 'C', holding while firmly placing screwdriver into screw marked 'M' and making tight."

This particular set of directions was a source of laughter for many months after the project was completed, mostly because none of the pieces were marked, and following the directions invariably led to an impromptu game of "Twister." When played alone, that game can get more than a little frustrating.

Back to my computer desk. My simple instructions included references to more than 35 pieces of laminated wood, and a plethora of screws, bolts, tracks, runners, protective grips, door magnets and hardware. If that wasn't daunting enough, the larger pieces which had to be flung and twirled with ease, or held straight up while a much smaller piece was firmly attached, weighed an average of 35 pounds.

The directions, which took up about 12 pages, included installation of three rolling shelves, for the keyboard, printer, and an odd contraption that held the keyboard shelf. All had to have tracks and rollers installed, and then they had to fit into each other and the huge outer cabinet that held them all. It took somewhere near 5 tries to install the first track, as I kept getting it upside down. I finally got it when I turned the directions right side up.

I made it through a file drawer (five sides and two tracks, plus two edge protectors for the drawer tops and two pieces of antiqued bronze drawer pulls), a regular drawer (same approximate number of parts), then the interior-shelved storage section. I finished with a flourish the three-way divided CD and paper storage shelves in the top section of the interior, then looked at the two 20-inch by 6-foot doors which were to be attached on the front of the computer section.

These were substantial, to be put in place to close up and protect the contents of my computer desk. They were also to be held approximately 10 inches off the floor while the various screws and magnets were properly attached. These doors have since found a happy home in the back of my den closet, where they will stay indefinitely. My cabinet is doorless, and I bet the contents have not felt the least bit threatened.

I do feel a certain sense of pride when I sit down at the thing, slide the keyboard out, and begin to hunt and peck my way through a new online adventure. I am fairly sure that everything is installed right side up, that the correct screws or bolts are holding together the correct parts, and that this is a computer desk of substance. It will not disintegrate any time soon.

I finished with no stitches, no need for the doctor (except maybe for some anti-anxiety meds), and no trips to the hardware store. I lost no pieces, damaged nothing, and was able to put it all together on my den floor, so the finale was simply to stand it up and put it in place. It took me one day, but I must add that I stayed up awfully late that night.

Thank you, IKEA, for your directions, that are almost easy to understand. I have no problem patting myself on the back for the lack (for the most part) of curses uttered during the project completion. The only alcohol necessary was a large glass of wine, lifted by me in honor of a job well done (nobody knows about the doors!).

I will note, however, that no big flat boxes have been delivered to my house since.