From where I sit, instant karma’s not only going to get you, it’s going to boomerang in doing so.

Where I’m sitting, by the way, happens to be in a newly purchased office chair for the home office. It’s a replacement for one that had carried a lot of weight around here, being the space that launched a thousand slips of the tongue.

This new chair — still being broken in at press time — arrived unassembled and remained so for a couple of weeks before word came down from management that it was time to get my act together and take on the rollers.

Management was tired of seeing the cardboard box containing the chair unopened, and had expected the construction phase of this changeover to be completed while she was enjoying her no-husbands-allowed trip to Virginia with her sisters.

I, as it turns out, had other priorities — none of which involved four sets of various length screws, all of which could be set in place by the same Allen Wrench.

And this is where karma enters the picture, by way of her car.

On the drive back to the home office from Portland, the TPMS light was FUBAR, sporadically blinking out an undecipherable Morse Code while she sent out an SOS before she truly became SOL. Turns out that her tires were A-OK, but a faulty sensor was the culprit behind her vehicular SNAFU.

That required, upon her safe arrival, a trip as soon as possible to the car-fixing place. That accomplished, she discovered that her air conditioning tool was spewing hot air — and since I am the only tool allowed to spew hot air in her car, she immediately called the car-fixing place for an explanation.

“Do you see a snowflake?” they asked as she inspected the car’s control panel.

Seeing no snowflake, or raindrop, lightning bolt, cloud or graupel, she was at a loss for a solution.

It likely has dawned on you by now that what happened was the air conditioner was inadvertently turned off while replacing the sensors. She said she felt like an idiot for not thinking of that but, being a loving husband, I resisted telling her to go with the feeling.

Out loud, that is.

Still, at the press of a button, things had cooled down and there was much rejoicing — at least there was from where I sat, at that moment in a recliner eating cantaloupe.

Seeing my goo goo g’joob countenance, and knowing I was likely to push her buttons over this minor embarrassment, she quickly changed the subject.

“When are you going to build that office chair,” she asked, “and why is your recliner eating cantaloupe?”

It was clearly time for me to get off my spot and create a new place to sit.

The cardboard box was opened and all the bubble-wrap, plastic bags and tissue paper were removed, revealing the pieces that would seemingly be put together in short order.

If only I had instructions on how to do so.

I had the chair’s limited warranty. I had a one-sheet on how to use the various levers for positioning the cushion and seat-back to maximize efficiency and comfort.

The box told me which end was up, the plastic bags told me not to place them over my head … even the Allen Wrench, encased in plastic along with the four sets of screws, had the helpful words “Allen Wrench” beneath it.

But instructions were nowhere to be found.

I placed a call to the chair-building company, went through the series of button options, was asked if I would remain on the line for a short survey, and reminded that the call was being monitored for training purposes.

“Chair-Building Company,” the friendly voice said. “How may I help you?”

Well, I told her, I had purchased their chair a couple of weeks ago and was finally getting around to putting it together … (I imagined her thinking that management told me to get rid of the cardboard box) … and it appears that the instructions on how to put it together weren’t included.

“Do you have the sheet explaining how to use the levers,” she asked.

Yes.

“Turn it over.”

Karma, it is said, is like a rubber band. You can only stretch it so far before it comes back and smacks you in the face.

Eventually, I confessed that I felt like an idiot for not thinking of that but, being a loving wife, she resisted telling me to go with the feeling.

Out loud, that is.