The Bed.

My things were packed and sent to Halifax while I was in Costa Rica.  Walter had let the movers into my new apartment and had assembled my bed for me.  It was really sweet of him to do that.

About two weeks after my move to Halifax, part of my bed collapsed.  I did my best to repair the corner that didn't want to hold the mattress up and then just slept on the other side.  Until it collapsed while I was sitting in bed, watching TV with a hot cup of tea.  With hot tea all over myself, I cursed the bed and the person who had put it together.  It was a standard frame that worked well for years - the only reason it was falling apart now was faulty assembly.

So, one fine Saturday afternoon, I pulled the mattress off and examined the bed frame.  At this point, Joe and I were still talking every once in awhile and he was my first stop - the most handy person I knew on Skype would could look at the frame and help me understand what was wrong with it.

"It's been put together backwards," he said.
"How do I fix it?"
"Take it apart, flip the thing around and put it back together again - it's completely wrong and won't hold any weight the way it is - I'm surprised it's not in worse shape," he continued.

After half an hour of live Skype help from Joe, he had to go.  The time difference was too great and it was way past his bedtime.  Following his instructions, I disassembled the frame, flipped everything around and went to put it together.  I needed more tools than I had.  I called Walter... I don't know why.

With his sweatshirt tucked into his jeans and sporting a barely-bent ball cap (the combination was priceless), he showed up with his toolbox.  Because he'd put it together the wrong way, he ended up having to bend it out of shape in order to make it fit together.  Therefore, it was nearly impossible to get it back together, the right way.  I explained this to him and was wondering if he had any solutions because I didn't know how to fit it back together.  He sat cross-legged on my floor and stared at the frame.  He may have been trying to send it yoda-like messages to bend back to it's original form, but it wasn't working.  After five minutes of silence, I told him that it was fine - he could go home and I would figure it out.  I was annoyed and no longer wanted him to waste my time.  Another five minutes of staring at my frame went by.  Again, I reiterated that he could go; it was okay, I would figure it out and find a solution.  Yet another five minutes of staring at my frame!  'How many more times can I ask you politely to leave?!' I thought.
"Walter, just go. Please.  I'm not in a good mood, my bed is broken and I don't know how to fix it.  This isn't helping. Please go home and I will figure something out.  Worst case, I have my awesome papasan chair to sleep on, which is uber comfy, so I don't mind," I said.
He left.  (He later messaged me to say that I could sleep in his bed, if I preferred it over the chair - he felt bad about the bed.  Um...no chance. Nice try.)

Completely frustrated, I called Steve on Skype.  I didn't know if Steve could help but I knew that he was certainly more 'handy' than Walter was.

Steve, bless him, looked at the bed on Skype, drew a sketch of it and then proceeded to give me step-by-step directions how I could assemble it.  It wouldn't be perfect and it might be at a very slight slant, but  I could definitely put it back together and it would survive.  He had already been running late to meet friends when I had called and neglected to mention it.  Instead, he calmly helped my frustrated self put together the bed for the next hour before excusing himself.  He then checked on me, and the bed, everyday that week to ensure that his instructions had worked and I had bed to sleep in.  It was really sweet.