Dear Rihanna,

I’ve been staring at a box filled with freedom. My ticket to shade, my covered oasis, my writing sanctuary, if only Greg would assemble, bolt, lock and have a safety technician certify our new 11 foot cantilever umbrella, I would be made in the shade.

Unfortunately, he is away at yet another off-sight meeting, doesn’t his boss understand the concept of the “home office?” It’s up to me.

First, drag the box out of the basement and onto the lower deck. Serenity now, serenity now, serenity now, deep breath, done.

Next, remove all parts of the umbrella and mount it Jack Tripper style. Think the episode where he tried to get on the hammock.

This umbrella is bigger than me and it knows it. It’s bigger than…..all of us. It turns, it slides up and down and would be happy to sever several of my fingers if I play this the wrong way.

The girls waste no time frolicking under the large canopy resting on the grass and I start to lose my cool. The very thing I am so desperate to find and it’s already lost, oh the irony.

The diagram, a poor quality photocopy and the only hint of instruction enclosed in this beast has been drawn by a sausage fingered person who opted to smudge the charcoal sketch for effect, rendering it completely useless.

Again, it was all up to me.

The first step was assembling the base which of course I did upside down. Second step, disassemble the upside down base and do it right. Nowhere on the crude smudgering did it say which way was up.

Next, bolt the base together using the four enclosed screws. There were also four washers but I found they just got in the way so back in the baggie they went. I would hear about this mistake later but for now, I would head to the garage to find a wrench.

The wrench was by no means built for these particular bolts but if I squeezed hard enough, I could force them to tighten.

Next, I would slide the post into the base despite the graphic smear telling me to make a mud pie with pieces & and Bbbbb.

I managed to crank the canopy open and watch in awe as the base, pole and my torso tipped forward and two of the three of us were instantly face-planted into the grass.

Off to find a rock in the yard heavy enough to sustain the weight of the contraption. I quickly realized if my body wasn’t heavy enough to hold it down, how would I drag something back that weighed more than I did and set it in place while balancing the base, the canopy and lunging at Chloe who wouldn’t stop throwing her hat on the grass and instead of reaching for it, ate a handful of grass knowing I couldn’t possibly get to her in time?

Come and knock on our door….take a step that is new…..

Greg returned to an umbrella heap that had been kicked and mangled, a rogue wrench, four (apparently much needed) washers and a sunburned wife.