Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Brain vs. Brawn


A contrast as old as time itself. In fact, I believe the fatal tension between Cain and Abel stemmed from Abel's inherited wisdom, as opposed to Cain's inherited strength. (To clarify, these traits were inherited from Eve and Adam, respectively.) Jealous because a mutual lady of interest preferred Abel's intelligence, Cain brutally murdered his brother. I may have the facts a bit muddled, but the point is clear. Women often argue which is the more desirable trait. However, males do not make the same judgments when discussing women. In the conversations I have been privileged enough to join, most of the comparison is between butt and boobs, although there is the occasional consideration of the value between brain vs. beauty. As a step toward equalizing the sexes and eliminating yet another form of discrimination, this post is dedicated to the argument of brain vs. brawn as it refers to women. Namely, myself.

I hate assembling furniture. I get absolutely no satisfaction from the process. This disdain for such tasks comes as no surprise, because in my household, the local construction company was called to change a light bulb. Unfortunately, it often conflicts with my overriding sense of frugality when it comes to items not adorning my body. White glove delivery is typically reserved for those who are willing to pay the extra $300 for an already overpriced piece of wood, and I panic about whether I am obligated to tip the delivery men, offer them a drink, take them to dinner, marry them... It all is quite overwhelming.

These sentiments lead to a purchase that inevitably compels me to manual labor. In and of itself, I am not opposed to the effort involved in assembling furniture. It is following directions and putting screws in the correct (or incorrect) holes that often plagues the process and renders me yelling at my backwards chair.

I was faced with such a situation a couple weeks ago, as my roommate and I purchased a patio set from Ikea. The price was unbeatable; however, like all of Ikea's furniture, it requires assembly. I was feeling particular motivated and decided to use my lunch break to complete the finishing touch on our new apartment. The table was fairly simple, as it only had four legs and two beams in the middle. The beams were a bit tricky, but after twenty minutes, it was erect and stable. I tackled the bench next, and despite initial panic from the seven pages of directions, I began my work. The time came to attach the back of the bench to the sides. I lined up the holes on both pieces, inserted the screw of correct length, and twisted the screwdriver. The screws did not seem to be cooperating and the awkwardly sized driver was certainly not helping matters. Not to be bested, I forced those little suckers into submission and left my lunch break with a mostly assembled bench.

I was unable to finish my masterpiece, as vacation was upon me. When I returned, I was greeted by a beautiful patio set, completed by my roommate. Apparently, I had complicated the process by inserting the screws into the wrong side of the hole. Cindy, being a problem solver, took the bench to a local hardware store so the screws could be removed and the appropriate ones acquired. After a moment or two of working on the bench, the store employee, who I imagine to have the build of a stereotypical carpenter, asked in disbelief if my roommate had actually inserted these screws. Upon hearing that it was me, he stated, "She must be incredibly strong, because there is no way a girl should have been able to insert these. I cannot get them out."

The question is gentlemen, would you prefer brains or brawn?