Bye Bye Snooker

One day, with nothing much to do, I decided to get rid of the snooker cabinet. The P.O.s had used it for their stereo equipment, I presume to accompany the clink and click of longnecks and billiard balls. I also was using it to hold my vintage 1977 turntable and all of my eighties cassettes. It was large, probably about three feet deep and two feet wide and high. The back of it protruded into my laundry room, taking up precious space above my dryer, so it had to go.
Taking off the doors posed no problems. That only took a hammer and a few minutes. When I got the doors off, though, the problems began. The whole inside of the cabinet was made of plywood and screwed into the studs with four inch long wood screws. And they weren't coming out. Thus began a battle of wills between myself and those screws. They WERE coming out. One way or another. For an hour I fought and sweated and yelled and cursed the P.O.s and gave it everything I had until finally they began to give way. (Also I found out that demolition is a lot more fun and profitable if you can manage to have a fight with your spouse right before you pick up the hammer, but I digress.)
So I got all the plywood out, but now I had a large hole in the wall. Since the plywood on the inside of the cabinet had been flush with the outside wall there was nothing to apply the new drywall to.
So I improvised. I cut a two by four into small pieces and Tee screwed them into the side of the hole. Then I screwed a piece of plywood onto those and then the drywall on top of that. Taped and bedded and painted and was done. The transition from pool hall to dining room was complete.
I was really proud of the job. Until the next morning. When I went into the laundry room to do a load of laundry, I noticed that most of the screws had gone through the drywall and plywood into nothing. We had totally missed the two by fours holding the whole thing together. I stifled a wave of irritation at a once AGAIN project gone awry and added it to my already long list of things to be redone. But then as I walked away, I let out a chuckle as I thought about the dynamics of bad screwjobs. Oh get your mind out of the gutter. You know what I mean.