…has been acting odd lately: when you pick it up (as it is ringing) you get a dialtone, it rings after you hang it up — and no one is there, and sometimes people on the other end put you on hold for ten minutes and forget about you. That’s the last time I call Canadian Tire. [ grumbling under breath ] the.great.desk.adventure Ikea loomed in the distance. A messy room, two computers, and a whole lot of disorganized boxes: we decided that some office furniture might be an important addition to the new apartment. Ten minutes later — driving casually down the highway — we’re parked in the massive lot of the brand-spanking-new Ikea megalith, Karin giddy from anticipation all the while comparing the adventure to a trip to DisneyWorld. The lights, the music, and even the dirt is sparkling clean and drips of some provincial happy pre-packaged life. Sigh. We buy the modular ones. Two corner desks — matching — connectable by some later purchase. Hauling them down to “parking-land”, the sudden realization: “we drove here in a small car, and we just bought two large desks.” Okay. Check the trunk. Check the back seat. Check the roof. Check the trunk again. Half the fun is getting these things home: we wedge two large boxes out of the trunk, suspended by a ‘rope’ we found in the emergency kit, Karin leaning back to watch the whole trip, and gasping with fear everytime I hit a small bump on the road home. Episode complete, we assemble our treasures only marginally disturbing the neighbors: next time I think we spring for delivery. |
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