“It’s the Little things that are important.” Tony handed me a box.
“So we’re not size queens then?” I laughed.
“You are incorrigible,” He gave me one of his looks.
“That’s why you love me.” I quipped back. “and for the less little things.” I leaned forward suggestively and got that look again.
“Hand me the….” Tony began, ignoring my innuendos as best he could.
“The what?” I asked ready to help.
“I’m trying to phrase it so you don’t change what I’m saying into something else.” He replied. “I need the longer thingy…. that one there… the…”
“This one, ” I obliged curbing my desire to say anything else.
“And I need a longer screw.” he stopped and gave me a sharp look having said it before censoring himself. “You know what I mean.”
“Sure do,” I winked and handed him what he wanted. “But doesn’t that bit go on the back first? ” I questioned.
“You want to take over?” he asked quickly. ” One of us did read the instructions. Hand me four of those doobry things, no not that, the…, yes…”
“They’re called wooden dowels,” I offered. Another look over his shoulder.
Little by little the new cupboard thingy to house the music centre was taking shape. The Black ash effect was all the rage and of course we were at the cutting edge.
Having an Ikea nearby was a real bonus when replacing furniture, and it’s the little things that matter when putting their flat-packs together (as someone who’s had to take almost every piece of furniture apart again at least once while building it I should know) – they hold everything together, just like in life.