A few days had passed with my lovely wife nagging me to go get us a new set of pantry cupboards because what we had was about 20 years old. It looked fine to me, but looking through the eyes of a wife, it apparently looked shabby. Being the good husband I am, I did what I was told and bought a set of cupboards-in-a-box, the kind you bring home and set up yourself.

I unpacked the boxes and sat down with a hot mug of coffee and the instruction manual. After reading through a few pages I got bored and figured I could do this myself. I started ripping out the old cupboards that my wife had already emptied in anticipation of the new ones being installed. I chucked the old ones in the backyard and got to work with the new ones. I put the sides together and screwed on the doors and the rails for the drawers. I measured space required for the dishwasher and refrigerator. It fit perfectly. I then shifted them into place and fixed the kitchen sink. All good. The bottom row was finished. Easy as eating cake. Now for the top shelves. The cupboards I picked out had glass fronts and wood on the sides and the back. I started by fitting the sides and separating bits and fitted the glass in front. To mount them on to the wall they came with hooks at the back which would slide into large screws that would have to be driven in to the wall. I drilled the wall and fitted the screws. I checked them for stability and with the greatest difficulty managed to lift the cupboards into place. DONE.

I found a set of screws left over. The package didn’t state that there were any extra screws. I stood in front of my new kitchen and rubbed my chin as I wondered where the remaining screws should go. I hadn’t left out any. Perhaps these were extras, maybe the company just put them in, just in case someone lost a few. I retired to the TV to watch some golf. My wife went in the kitchen and came running out, hugged me and thanked me. I kissed her on the cheek and told her that it was my pleasure and that I was glad she liked it. She went back in the kitchen, undoubtedly to stack the brand new cupboards with her stuff. Ten uneventful minutes passed by and Woods got ready to take the putt. Crash! The sound of shattering glass reverberated through the house.

I instantly stood up, looked towards the kitchen and then thought about running out the front door. Not anywhere specific but somewhere. Gathering up enough courage to walk into the kitchen where my lovely wife stood, hands on hips staring at shattered glass on the floor, I soon figured out where the extra screws should have been. The extra screws were to hold in place a wood lining that had conveniently hidden itself amongst the Styrofoam. The wooden lining was to stop the sliding glass from sliding all the way out and on to the tougher-than-glass floor. I looked at my wife and sheepishly suggested calling someone to come and fix it. So much for do-it-yourself, her face bellowed.