Recently, we bought a Cotita stainless steel propane fire pit from Wayfair for our back deck. The propane tank is discreetly housed underneath the gray rectangular base, which makes the fire seem like magic until the propane peters out and you're left staring at the blue decorative glass wondering where the magic went.
Wayfair is an online site that is like crack cocaine for people buying outdoor furniture or fixing up their houses. Inexpensive, good quality and once they zone in on your buying habits, they send a string of emails tempting you into future purchases.
"Perfect. Super easy to assemble," said Michel, in one of the reviews.
It didn't look hard. It never does. There were only six pieces, two were ends, two the longer cross pieces and that only left two pieces that had to go somewhere.
The directions were blurry because there is only one copy machine in China and they use it on every set of instructions.
The pieces were marked A, B, C, D and E. Adding to the fun, the B looked like a D, and the E like an L but there was no L.
In order to compound the degree of difficulty, I began assembling it shortly before sunset or when there was less than 15 minutes of available light left. That way, if I dropped one of the 16 very-important-don't-lose-these-screws, it would roll into the bark-covered flower bed and I would have no chance of finding it again or replacing it at Floyd's.
After four sunsets, I had the fire pit half-assembled and in order to use it this season rather than in 2024, I called a friend who has more mechanical ability than I do and that list is not short and includes about nine-tenths of the world's population. Bart came over, and together, and I use the word "together" loosely, we finished it in about 10 minutes.
Assembled, the fire pit looked simple. How could I not have figured that out? I beat myself up properly for a few days and then felt better by saying, "It will take me 10 minutes next time."
Except there is no next time. Only this time. Next time it will be another easy-to-assemble product, four sunsets and 15 screws when it should have been 16.
Now to fill the empty propane tank in the garage, which I found leaked and rather than fixing it myself and blowing up all of downtown including Mechanics Bank Theater, I surrendered it to the propane-tank-men and bought two more. There is a fear of missing out and the equally compelling fear of running out. Oilfield Russ has two tanks and OR never runs out.
The first fire. I pushed the starter switch, turned the gas knob to the left, lit it and then killed it. After six or eight kills, my right and left hands began speaking to one another, albeit in tongues.
There were no directions for lighting. They figure some things you know. Otherwise, how do you get up in the morning?
I'd forgotten how mesmerizing an outside fire is. The flickering sound of the flames, the changing light and the warmth coming from the bluish green decorative glass pebbles. The feeling of security as you are drawn into the circle of light and warmth.
Fire bequeaths fire and memory memories. Driftwood fires at Rincon, early morning Dad-fires at Hutchinson Meadows in the Sierra and the ones in Death Valley with a "billion stars all around."
Worth four days, a leaky tank and directions as simple as A, B, C and D.
April 01, 2021 at 11:55PM
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HERB BENHAM: That was easy and worth it - The Bakersfield Californian
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Herb
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