I Built a Shelf

If you know me well, humour me. If not, bear this in mind:
(a) I am very excitable,
(b) I built a fucking shelf
Okay, so yeah, it might not be the most impressive DIY job ever undertaken. It in no way rivals Andy’s almost total annihilation of the interior of his house, now rebuilt and shaken off that building site chic, but by Gods, it’s a shelf and its fucking great.

It has revolutionised the way we interface with our study – now Lib’s psychiatry books and my rhyming dictionary all sit within reach above the desk, placed upon... nay, pedestalled by the noble construct of wood and metal. Well supported by four brackets, our printer sits atop its right hand side, ready to spew nonsense about curry, Buddhism, or whatever topic takes our fancy. Through the drilling of holes way, way into the wall, and the impassioned turning of the sacred screws of glory, our books now have the space to be arranged beautifully. Not alphabetical… oh no, that is not our way outside of library walls… the system is, “does it look good?”. And yes it looks good… a wealth of information, entertainment, and Dylan related tomes radiate high class and good taste. And this is all thanks to a shelf, a shelf that I built…

All that really needs now to be done is sorting out the four or five erroneous holes that I drilled, and to return the ‘electric power hammer action small country destroyer’ that I borrowed off Dave. It’s a device that endows people with an unhealthy sense of power, I can tell you.

Petros Petros Pisco