Last weekend involved a venture that will never again be repeated: a solo trip to IKEA. Yes, I went to IKEA... alone. This was a stupid idea from the get-go, and I knew that. I called and/or texted nearly everyone I knew didn't have plans to see if anyone was up for losing their mind along with me. No bites. So I decided that I'd just suck it up and go anyway - we had a little running list of things to look for/hopefully pick up there. This list included, among other miscellany: runners for the hallways, another dog-tail hook (as seen here), and lamps -- two lamps, to be precise.
For any friends of ours reading this who have commented either to me or behind our backs about how dark Dave likes to keep the house, you'll be pleased to know that it was Dave who said, "you know, I think we need a floor lamp for the living room." There was fist-pumping in victory going on inside my head, but I calmly said, "Oh, really? Yeah, that's not a bad idea." And I'd also recently concluded that our existing table lamp in my little reading corner also didn't really fit, and it needed to go. So, deep breaths in, and off to IKEA I went.
I was at IKEA for FOUR AND A HALF HOURS. This was not because I had that much to do there. It was almost exclusively due to the anxiety-related wandering that came from feeling overwhelmed with having to make IKEA decisions without any input. I found the few aforementioned "miscellany" quickly, as well as an art-and-frames request for my SIL, and then moved onto the Lighting department... where I spent at least an hour. I narrowed down the floor lamps to three, and then called Dave to look them up online, and we picked one. Then I picked a table lamp in a similar chrome base, and spent the next 40 minutes having lampshade anxiety. I called my SIL and mother for consults, and texted three friends. Ultimately, I nervously came to a conclusive choice and, voila, two lamps were chosen. I'll show you the lamps before I tell you how I spent the next 45 minutes of my IKEA experience:
|(floor lamp! yay! and p.s., how cute do those little stools I found look with little plants on them?!)|
|(pretty impressive shade for such a dramatic selection process, eh? don't judge me if you've never been to IKEA alone.)|
|(dark blue stripes if you can't tell)|
Well, I was determined. I got myself onto the elevator in spite of my parched throat and slowly-creeping-in headache, an obvious symptom of too much time alone in an IKEA. I got off on 2 and went straight to the map of the floor. I located myself and then Home Accents and started making my way back around the floor. But for the life of me, I was walking in circles. No dog butts. I finally found another friendly employee and made my same awkward request. "Oh, yes! If you go directly across to the opposite side of the floor from where we are now, when you see the mirrors, they should be in a giant white bin on your left. And if they're not there, I'm sorry we're all out." OHMIGAWD. If they weren't there, I was going to hurt someone.
So off I went again, and sure enough, there were the mirrors, and sure enough, on my left was a giant white bin of dog-tail hooks. Red, orange, and hot pink dog-tail hooks. I was not dismayed. Just as I recalled, there were somewhere between 800-several thousand hooks in this bin. I dug in elbow-deep and moved them all around. And there, on the bottom, were two black dog-tail hooks. I grabbed one, sighed heavily, and made for the elevators. I will not add to the story by explaining how I got my loot to the car (since you can't take the carts into the lot, and I had no partner in crime to watch my stuff while I went to find the car), but I made it, and though I'll never again go there alone, I will go back. And all's well that ends well.
|(*someone* told me that you should always accessorize in odd numbers!)|