#dislikesthetrain

He's contemplating the 10000 pieces of crib he just ripped taken back apart after the 40th attempt. "I dunno, maybe I should have stayed at Ultra long enough to go to college for an engineering degree." He jokes to Morgan, exhausted and at his limits.

John already had dealt with Clari offering 'help' which bruised his ego, severely, because he now was sure she was right and could get the whole thing together under an hour. He wasn't going to invite her back to witness that and further damage his self esteem, however.

"I think Ikea is Swedish for fuck you." He finally says, glaring at the offending pieces of composite wood, sent by the gods to humble him.

TIM chose that point to interrupt:

John, I have located several more youtube videos on how to put this monstrosity together, would you like me to add them to the schematic?

"I don't think that will save us, TIM. I think this thing needs a Viking Funeral and Morgan and I will go for ice cream. Tell Clari to execute plan 27b."

Anyways I’ll be over here sobbing over the idea that Clari at least knows she’ll be a better parent than any of the ones she has had.

"..."

Previously:

8 Hours Later: John has TIM reworking the instructions to mAKE GOD DAMN SENSE and he’s on his 12th cup of coffee and glaring at this crib and these POS Allen Wrenches in frustration and literally shaking like “Morgan, I’m sorry, fuck this shit. I’m going to go steal you a better crib. This one is going in the garbage because I am done.”

tbh this is Clari and Cara and Morgan and I’m wheezing.

Morgan: I guess the weirdo with the hat can have her now... Maybe.

Morgan: *squints, judging him, protective aunt mode tbh* Cas: he’s fine Morgan. Let him be. No worse than Russell Morgan: that’s not a good argument Russ: Unfair!

“Even pregnancy didn’t kick me out of the itty bitty titty committee Clarissa,” her voice is still low, that hint of growl still there, but also full of love and affection for her friend. “Pretty sure you were only at risk when I was still nursing.” Still she holds on tightly, gently stroking Clarissa’s hair. Soft hands and words for comfort. Iron will and tensed muscles for protection.