Contagious?

Can you believe that Anna Nicole Smith died? I was so surprised, I mean she seemed invincible to me. Obviously this is not super-important news, but still. Sometimes one runs a bit dry on blog info. Anyways, on to my theme of the day... IKEA. I for some time now have had a sort of un-healthy obsession with IKEA, this of course has been somewhat tempered since IKEA came to town and I have easier access, but still I love eating the 50 cent hot dogs and wandering around marveling at how well they lay out a 500 square foot apartment. Arnold likes the 99 cent breakfast that includes coffee. He says the coffee is good, not Juan Valdez worthy of course, but he always seems cheery after the IKEA cafeteria loads him up on caffeine and protein. The thing is that every time we go to IKEA it seems to end in some kind of disaster...

Arnold and I had pre-meditated it all, we would go to IKEA buy the on-sale MALM bed with three-piece headboard and dresser, load it into the Enterprise rent-a-vans that are available on site and go home on time to heat dinner before our weekly Thursday Night TV party. Simple, right?

So we are wandering around enjoying ourselves, perusing mattresses and eating hot dogs and everything is peachy. We load up our bed and dresser without incident. I intelligently mosey off to call the Rent-A-Van so that they'll be there when Arnold is done ... except they aren't... there. They've closed early for absolutely no reason. That's when Arnold wanders up and I get to tell him that we need to magically load a bed frame, the headboard with included side tables and a dresser into our Honda Accord. It's flat-packed, but still! Honda Accord!

Did I mention that it was raining?

Needless to say when Debi arrived for TV night, she did not arrive to the sight of Amelie calmly heating up Italian Stew in a reasonably clean apartment. She came home to a raving lunatic who was unreasonably focused on scrubbing the crap off her stove top instead of focusing on the boxes of flat-packed furniture still blocking the front door. Still, by the time Sara arrived things were looking up for me. When Sara arrived she said "I just dropped my sweatshirt in the middle of the street and when I looked back and realized where I dropped it, a car ran it over."

I think my constant-mini-disaster syndrome might be contagious.

Posted on February 8, 2007 and filed under Nothing to Do with Anything.