Clearly, the single little fat man that was me with a hammer was supposed to call on a very happy-looking little fat man with a pencil to help me out. In this new solo season of my life, I am the only little fat man around. So, I grabbed my hammer, stuck the pencil behind my own ear, and tackled the furniture. What I lacked in second-little-fat-man-ness, I made up for in sheer determination. It took some artful gymnastics, but finally the shelf came together. I survived.