Over the past few months I have come to equate having a headboard with having your shit together. Don’t ask me why because I know it’s totally illogical, but it’s become a major part of my personal life philosophy. I guess I figure if you’re able to spend money on this pretty but sort of unnecessary thing, you’re in a good place in life. As a result, I recently became immensely interested in buying a headboard to symbolize to myself and others that I, too, have my shit together.
I was slightly shocked by how quickly I was able to select a headboard I loved, and even more shocked when the thing showed up and was heavy, bulky, and in a bunch of pieces. I don’t know what I expected, but I guess I was hoping there would be some useful Wayfair guy who arrived with the package, all ready to do the assembly work for me.
Seeing as how I’m neither patient nor handy, I knew this was going to be a production. I thought about calling in reinforcements in the form of my best guy friend. I figured if I offered him Chicken McNuggets and beer he would get it set up for me, but then I had an empowered, independent, sort-of adult moment and became determined to get this thing figured out myself. What Would Beyonce Do? (I know, she would have one of her 73 assistants set it up for her. Don’t answer that.)
I feel like it’s nice to remind yourself from time to time that you can tackle any task that comes your way, regardless of how seemingly complex or confusing it may be. Powering through tough projects always makes me feel invincible.
This was how the process began:
After a significant amount of sweating and talking to myself, I was able to get the thing assembled. While the finished product isn’t totally successfully screwed into my bed frame and will probably end up falling on me and killing me in the night, I’m proud of how it looks.
I know it’s just a headboard and in the grand scheme of things it isn’t that important, but I’d never assembled one by myself before, so it’s become symbolic. I was able to work through the steps without losing patience, and then I was able to use my Pilates muscles to get the thing hoisted up and balanced behind my bed. And it looks damn cute. Patience and sheer determination triumph over a DIY project once again. And I’m now a functioning adult with a headboard and her shit together.
Update: It should be noted that my mother, Pam Levine, provided endless support via FaceTime as I sat and sweat and cursed while trying to get this thing together. She was an essential part of this process and not giving her credit in the first version of this post was a gross oversight on my part.