Not Swingers

Years and years ago, T bought a porch swing for Master.  I think it was intended to be a gift for an anniversary or perhaps a birthday.  It came to us in pieces, and between the need to assemble it and then figure out how to hang it, we just never got to the work of making it happen.  So, that's how it came about that I got busy the other day trying to assemble and then hang the porch swing that has been living in the garage for so many years. 

After reclaiming it from the host of spiders that had taken up residence in every single nook and cranny of the thing, I managed to locate the hardware that came with it. Opening the bag, I discovered that there were seven bolts, seven washers, and seven nuts. That's it. No directions. There was one tiny bit of yellow paper with a warning about making sure that the hardware to hang it should be screwed vertically into an appropriately sturdy support beam. I sat on the floor of the garage, with the pieces scattered around me in a circle, and scratched my head. A bit of trial and error, and some natural ability for "seeing" three dimensional relationships, allowed me to sort out the process for getting it all put together. As it turned out, it is not a bad looking little swing...

 

Once I got it all put together, I dragged it and the ladder and the drill and the tool box out to the patio, and with Master's help, began the work of getting the thing hung in place.  I'm not particularly good on ladders.  Heights are a challenge with  my balance issues, but I worked slowly and carefully, and we managed to get everything set up.  Again there were no directions and no obvious hardware for attaching the hanging chains -- only holes drilled in both arms of the swing, through which the chains seemed meant to pass.  We located some heavy clips (actually retrieved from our bondage gear) and used them to help connect everything, and then I was back up the ladder with the chains. 

Tah Dah!  It looked good, and Master took a seat.  He sat there, happily swinging away, and when He patted the seat next to Him, I sat down on the newly finished swing. 

With the weight of the two of us, the arms (which as it turns out were only connected with some wire  staples) pulled completely off and the whole contraption landed with a bang on the patio floor!  I got wacked in the side of the head with one of the now free swinging wooden arms.  I smacked my right hip on the concrete, and wrenched my left shoulder.  Luckily, the thing fell such that He landed on me, and really wasn't hurt.  I sat there looking like a cartoon character -- birdies and stars swirling around my head. 

Eventually, I managed to shake the fogginess out of my head, got myself gathered up, and cleaned up the mess.  A little ice and the ringing in my ear subsided, and we went on with the other work for the day.  However, the poor broken swing is now back in the garage awaiting reassembly.  We've formulated a plan for making a better attachement point for the chains.  Sometime in the next few days, we'll try it all again.  For now, however, we remain poly but we are most definitely NOT SWINGERS.

swan