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I suppose you could call it cheating
Today's outing involved the much anticipated first trip to the not-so-new IKEA. Sadly for the blogverse this is not a tale of woe and stress, but it does feature a large predatory fish.
We chose our timing carefully: Thursday morning on a fine school holiday Royal Show day. I am really liking this year's Show; it's absorbing a lot of otherwise annoying people. There was buckets of parking close to the entrance, and none of the desperate carpark behaviours I would normally have associated with the place. All was calm; not a wayward trolley or lost husband in sight. We found the entrance without circling; we interpreted the signage without perspiration and swearing.
Where's the fun in that?
Being forced to traverse the floor in a fixed pattern was much easier when not swept along in a river of anxious humanity. One could stop and wonder at the soulessness of the place with zen-like calm. I kept thinking about Fight Club.
We were forced to concede that we were unlikely to be admitted into the tempting play area, and passed it by.
I resisted the urge to buy nifty things, although had come mentally prepared to buy a certain type of shelving system. I picked up some birthday and Christmas presents, and a storage thingie to replace a former storage thingie that now lives under a bass speaker.
We bought a 4' plush shark.
As you do.
It's got gills and it's very soft and squishy. According to the IKEA online catalogue, it doesn't exist, so if you want to see it I'll have to upload a suitably posed photo. But it's real. Really.
I was eventually defeated by fatigue and couldn't be bothered going through the process of tracking down the shelving unit. Some other time I'll just march right up and get it.
There was no queue at the checkout, but we had managed to choose the one shark without a tag, so there was a bit of a wait. But we have our shark now, it's on the ironing board. Honest.
Took a quick look at exotic varieties of (non-shark) fish in the All Things Swedish deli on the way out, but passed on the fish-in-a-tube, frozen meatballs and mysterious Things In Tins, most of which I suspect were fish.
That's it. No screaming, no crying, no games of parking-space chicken, no dashing through the rain. A few minor collisions with blindly running toddlers, but in numbers well below breaking point. I didn't want to kill anyone, nor tear out an escape route with my fingernails. Dare I say, it was fun.
But I retain sufficient sense of reality to state with confidence that you'll not see me there on a Saturday morning. Hell no.
*pines for nifty things*
We chose our timing carefully: Thursday morning on a fine school holiday Royal Show day. I am really liking this year's Show; it's absorbing a lot of otherwise annoying people. There was buckets of parking close to the entrance, and none of the desperate carpark behaviours I would normally have associated with the place. All was calm; not a wayward trolley or lost husband in sight. We found the entrance without circling; we interpreted the signage without perspiration and swearing.
Where's the fun in that?
Being forced to traverse the floor in a fixed pattern was much easier when not swept along in a river of anxious humanity. One could stop and wonder at the soulessness of the place with zen-like calm. I kept thinking about Fight Club.
We were forced to concede that we were unlikely to be admitted into the tempting play area, and passed it by.
I resisted the urge to buy nifty things, although had come mentally prepared to buy a certain type of shelving system. I picked up some birthday and Christmas presents, and a storage thingie to replace a former storage thingie that now lives under a bass speaker.
We bought a 4' plush shark.
As you do.
It's got gills and it's very soft and squishy. According to the IKEA online catalogue, it doesn't exist, so if you want to see it I'll have to upload a suitably posed photo. But it's real. Really.
I was eventually defeated by fatigue and couldn't be bothered going through the process of tracking down the shelving unit. Some other time I'll just march right up and get it.
There was no queue at the checkout, but we had managed to choose the one shark without a tag, so there was a bit of a wait. But we have our shark now, it's on the ironing board. Honest.
Took a quick look at exotic varieties of (non-shark) fish in the All Things Swedish deli on the way out, but passed on the fish-in-a-tube, frozen meatballs and mysterious Things In Tins, most of which I suspect were fish.
That's it. No screaming, no crying, no games of parking-space chicken, no dashing through the rain. A few minor collisions with blindly running toddlers, but in numbers well below breaking point. I didn't want to kill anyone, nor tear out an escape route with my fingernails. Dare I say, it was fun.
But I retain sufficient sense of reality to state with confidence that you'll not see me there on a Saturday morning. Hell no.
*pines for nifty things*
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