Someone needs to come save me from myself, like, today
So, bet everyone's wondering what I bought at Ikea.
Are you? Are you wondering? Are you very sure that it is Swedish and made partly of particle board?
Well! HERE IS THE THING!
I haven't...gone yet! NO! AND LET ME TELL YOU WHY!
Actually, there are a number of reasons. The first reason is that the traffic, getting TO the Ikea, has scared me senseless. I keep on getting stuck in it on the way to and from work, and the idea of being trapped in an enclosed space with the very person who almost HIT ME, THANK YOU, is very scary to my mind. So, I've been kind of waiting for the hype to calm down, and for people to...you know, go back to their jobs and families, so that I may go shopping in peace.
And I kept thinking, well, I'll just go at an "off" time. But, people, there is no "off" time at Ikea! Ikea is always On! It is omniscient and omnipresent and there is always a line out the door. Will it always be this way? I am kind of freaked out.
But, another main reason I have not gone to Ikea, is that APPARENTLY, I will be spending quite a lot of money somewhere else very soon. And that "somewhere else" is the body shop, 'cause REMEMBER MY NEW CAR?
I ran it into a pole. Whack!
Sigh. You guys? Seriously? What is wrong with me? I drove the same car for thirteen years, and for the majority of that time, NOTHING HAPPENED. I did not run into things. Things did not run into me. We just went on, happy with the universe and the interstate highway system, and even though sometimes the car broke down or caught fire, AT LEAST it did not attack nearby objects. This new car? Not like that! It has anger issues! It hits!
And again, what it hit, was a motherfucking pole.
(Please let us note how I like to think I am not at all responsible for this. I blame the car. Possibly I should blame the POLE, which obviously jumped out in front of the car. EVERYONE is to blame, really. YOU ARE LOOKING GUILTY TO ME RIGHT NOW.)
Anyway, so what happened, was that I was leaving the office. And I hopped in my car, and there was another car behind me, kind of, and another one on the side, and so I had to eeeeeeeease out of my space in this horrible, awful parking garage where I park every day. And I was going very verrrrrrry slowly, because there are walls and poles, like, EVERYWHERE in this garage, and people are always banging into them, and my dad got so sick of having to repair his car from the many times he has sideswiped this one particular column that he finally decided that large scratch = FINE, and went on with his life.
So, I backed out, and I did not hit anything! Yay! And then I went forward, kind of proud of myself for my super sweet maneuvering abilities, and as I turned the corner, THAT IS WHEN I HEARD THIS:
At which point my heart? The one in my chest? It stopped. I slammed on the brakes, tumbled out of the car and ran around to the passenger side, AND THERE WAS THE SCRATCH. And of course it was huge, enormous, metallic and toothy and grinning and EVIL, and I had to bite my lip and remind myself that we do not CRY when we are wearing our Big Girl Suit. We do not cry! WE BLAME OTHERS.
So, I kicked the pole. This...did not help. And now I may need new shoes, and possibly I broke my toe, because it turns out that the poles are metal.
So. That should be, you know, cheap to fix. Only not. So I decided maybe I should just wait and see how much that's going to cost before I fall into Ikea and spend the dogs' inheritance.
But obviously, I still really wanted to go, so I was thinking maybe I would go today! It's been KIND OF A CRAPPY WEEK, with the pole attacking and the scratch and unforeseen money spending. I deserve a break today! I should go have some meatballs and purchase some housewares.
So, I decided I would leave work early. And so I was finishing things up (punctuated by the bi-hourly arrival of people in my office, all, "Did you hit a pole? I TOO HAVE HIT A POLE. I HATE THE PARKING GARAGE SO MUCH. THE PARKING GARAGE IS MY SWORN ENEMY").
And, I was getting ready, and getting things accomplished, and all was good in the world. And my plan was:
1. Finish brief
2. Go home and change from work clothing and shoes into Ikea Kloothink and comfortable shus.
3. Drive back to Ikea.
4. Experience shopping orgasm.
5. Eat meatball(s).
6. Learn what Lingdonberry is.
7. Despite explanation, continue disbelieving that Ligdonberry is actually real fruit.
8. Purchase housewares.
Good plan! Good thinking! Until sometime in between numbers 1 and 2, I FELL DRAMATICALLY DOWN THE OFFICE STAIRS, when the heel of my left shoe somehow entered the hem of my right pants leg.
And what happens, if you miraculously manage to impale the heel of your left shoe into the hem of your right pants leg, is that both legs become...confused. Disoriented. "Toppling" ensues. The "toppling" is head first.
Also: "Ripping." Of pants.
And, I would be so glad that at least nobody had seen me, IF INDEED NOBODY HAD SEEN ME. But unfortunately, that was NOT the case, and my personal downward spiral was witnessed by many, many people, including people whom I try to impress. Bet they're impressed now! All, WHOO, that Leigh! She is a force to be reckoned with! As she somersaults down the main staircase!
SO, that happened. And then I was just pissed off enough to not want to deal with driving all the way home, and changing into Ikea friendly jins and tee shuurt and shus, and driving all the way BACK, and I couldn't just go in what I was wearing, because...rip, and so I just came the hell home, and went to bed.
And, probably good thing that I did, because I just looked at the news. And apparently, the traffic to get back to where the Ikea is? Is going at one mile per hour.
Seeing as I don't have sixteen hours to waste, I am now sitting here, feeling sorry for myself, aware that shiny new Ikea closes in twelve minutes, and ONCE AGAIN I will not have availed myself of its Swedish ingenuity, and ONCE AGAIN I will fall asleep tonight feeling empty and beaten and hungry for Lingdonberries. And, also, bruised (see: "toppling," above).
And let us also note that this means that TWO bad things have happened in the last two days, and obviously that means that ONE MORE is coming, because these things travel in threes. This, alone, is enough to make me want to turn off all the lights and lock myself in a closet, because does a girl really need any more body shop bills? Or bruises? This particular girl DOES NOT.
But, really, I need to just suck it up and stop acting like a whiny little brat who falls down a lot, because Ziz and her boyfriend devin are coming into town tonight (yay!) and then Ziz and devin and Dukay and me and my parents and Lord only knows who else are all going up to the lake for the Fourth, and that is AWESOME, and I am EXCITED, and everyone is taking bets on exactly how long it takes before I fall IN, or possibly set the boat on fire, or run myself over. Somehow people have decided that all three will probably occur within the first twenty minutes. Good times!
So, that's the plan for the weekend. Next week, Ikea awaits! Let's all just pray that the parking garage doesn't have any damned poles.
Happy Fourth of July, everyone! Be safe!