It’s not that I have to be the best at anything. Heck, I was a solid B to B-plus student from grade school on. Post-college (and as recently as three or so years ago), I’ve taken conversational courses in Italian, Polish, Russian, and Turkish alongside people whose parents were native speakers or who spent significant time in those countries.
But assembling stuff is quite another. Spatial relationships and the way pieces and/or machinery work together are as mysterious to me as verb conjugation are to others, and perfection matters a lot more because you just can’t smile and identify yourself as an American.
Chairs that weren’t quite level. Tables that wobbled. Desks that weren’t flush at the 
corners. These are the stories of the items I have attempted to put together. Whenever possible, I buy things assembled or that require the bare minimum of a screw here or a nail there.
It surprised me when the CD holder I ordered arrived unassembled a week or so ago. And when I say “unassembled,” I mean unassembled. More than two dozen metal rods and pieces of wood. Six kinds of screws. Dowels. Some sort of little wrench.
I thought about asking my sister to put it together when she’s back from vacation. After all, we have two serviceable CD holders, but they don’t hold all the music and software we have. But I was tired of being helpless in this area. So I took a deep breath, and laid out the pieces in the order in which I would need them. I breathed even more deeply when it turned out I’d made a big mistake halfway through and had to redo several steps… and later, when one piece in particular kept slipping to the floor despite the dowels.
The result is above. It’s sturdy and stable, not out of alignment and wobbly. And while I’m not ready to take up woodworking or auto mechanics, I think I’ve finally learned the first lessons of assembly are a lot like the most important lessons of life: Go slow. If you make a mistake, stop and think, then go even slower. The results are worth it.
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