Cloudy With A Chance Of Storm

My forecast for life. Be ready to jump in puddles.

Lost in IKEA

I found myself pushing an office chair with my belongings around the IKEA parking lot this afternoon in search of my lost mother.
Two things brought this on:
1) I took a small, small car to IKEA.
2) I found the chair I’ve been wanting in the “as is” section and had to get it ASAP.
It started as a trip to get a white board, a simple 2’x3′ white board. Then, I said I’d also pick up the shelving unit to go over our toilet. It’s pretty small, actually. Smaller in the box than on display. So, I figured the small car would be fine.
And then #1 happened. I immediately dropped my white board on a couch and claimed the office chair sitting there in the “as-is” section. I didn’t remove my finger from it for a second for fear that some other cheap vulture would claim it.
I wheeled that big, black, leather beauty through the check out line, swiped my card and practically skipped it through the parking lot to the car. The tiny, tiny car.
It didn’t fit. No matter how I moved it. There was a family actually standing across the parking lot watching me in amusement. I had to re-park the car for better access to the passenger’s seat. But, no luck.
So who do I call? My mom.
Mom says, “You’re killin’ me. You know that, right?”
As if I didn’t?
While I’m waiting for mom to make the 20 minute drive to IKEA with her SUV, I wheeled back, with less enthusiasm than before, to the merchandise desk to pick up the shelving unit.
Interesting. It’s a six-foot tall box.
So I wait for mom. She calls twice. She wants to know how to get to where I’m at. I know she’s in the parking lot, yet I don’t see her. She says she must have passed me. She says she’s on the top level and there’s nothing above her. Who goes to the 3rd story of the IKEA parking lot?
Alas, she was not there. She was clear across the parking lot. So I tell her to stay there while I wheel my goods back to the area where my car (and hers) are located. As I’m wheeling back that way, she passes me in the opposite direction.
Cue the Benny Hill music.
So I’m wheeling and talking to her on my cell phone.
She’s driving and talking to me on her cell phone.
I tell her to park when she can. I about-face and break into a swift pace with the swivel chair and six-foot box. She parks in the dark abyss of the parking lot. She tells me her section. I find her car and then see her in the distance walking away, toward the store. Are you kidding me? Never leave the car! Haven’t we learned anything from the crazy wilderness stories of 2011?
I yell. I yell again. She responds. We load up the car and finally make it to my place where The Bus is patiently waiting in the parking lot to help unload.

Damn, my desk looks snazzy.

Note the new chair, the white board (with clips), the shelf and lamp. Score!

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