reason #15 why i hate going to ikea: fighting couples
since i’ve moved to my new place, i’ve been going to ikea every weekend to get some “stuff” to put in all of the space i now have. i’ve always sort of slightly detested having to go to ikea because they’re always packed with people (even at 2:00 pm on a Wednesday), the combination of an overwhelming amount of inventory and meandering people with shopping carts who seem like they have no idea what they’re doing or where they’re going, and the fact that it makes me feel like a mouse in a maze except you actually have to pay for the treat at the end (i prefer the $1 cinnamon roll). anyway, my recent and frequent trips have caused me to realize one other aspect about shopping at the swedish superstore that is very unfortunate: the number of couples that seem like they’re about to break up and never speak again over curtains (or color of veneer, or futon style, or area rug shape). for some reason that just seems so depressing to me. partially because i completely remember what it was like to be in that situation and can definitely recall the times when i’ve been just as guilty. but, after having been single now for the past 2 1/2 years, it just seems so silly. the fact that people can honestly sit there and fight in the middle of a store in front of hundreds of people over door knobs….that’s just ridiculous. one of my favorites are the bilingual couples who think that if they argue in another language, people won’t realize that they’re, in fact, having an argument because they assume nobody can understand what they’re saying. to me, that makes it even MORE obvious.
so in addition to my usual feelings of claustrophobia, indecision, and over-stimulation yesterday, i actually was sort of depressed and amused at the same time. depressed that people allow things like ikea to get angry at their loved ones and amused because i was so happy i was alone. sure, it would’ve been nice to have someone push the flat cart so i could actually buy the wardrobe i desperately need but i’d rather do it myself than fight over a soap dish.
rj
hello. we meat again.
it’s been one week since i moved into my new apartment in Hollywood. still lacking a refrigerator and a proper place to hang my clothes, but i have procured a new microwave for $30 and some other minor additions for the kitchen and the bathroom. for some reason my bed feels more comfortable in my own place. not sure why. it’s still the same bed. also, due to the lack of refrigeration capabilities, i’ve had to make trips to the grocery store every night for my evening’s meal. although slightly annoying because it’s one more stop to make before going home after work, i really like it. this could just be because it’s sort of the romantic way of doing things. buy fresh. eat healthy. don’t buy more than you need (there’s no where to store it). but i also have loved my time cooking. i blame this on my grandmother. it’s also thrown me head first into life as an omnivore. my love for beans has proven gastrointestinally very problematic and tofu and other forms of protein were just not cutting it. so i’m back to a life of chicken breast and even some beef (gasp!) every now and then. honestly though, i feel much better spending my money on some meat than buying and eating a crapload of carbs and starch. breaking the hummus habit will be the next challenge.
another totally awesome thing about my new place is the extra space. i’ve been able to practice yoga twice this weekend in the comfort of my own “living room”. i’m not sure how much this will change as my interior decorating gets underway, but maybe i’ll make it a point to keep things mobile so it can continue.
goals for this next week include:
1) call the landlord and ask to have them bring me a fridge
2) stop buying hummus at the grocery store
3) make a trip to Ikea and buy some curtains & look at possible closet organization options
4) get back into the yoga habit
5) cancel my membership at the gym. who am i kidding? i haven’t gone 13 times a quarter in like 9 months.
6) keep writing!!!
until we meet again,
racheljean
