I feel it is only appropriate to start this post with a sentiment I found engraved on a bench at the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden yesterday afternoon.
I can only suspect my Uncle Kurt and Aunt Kris, who Scott and I visited in the Twin Cities this weekend, may have felt this way just a mere twenty-four hours ago.
The forces were indeed aligning, and trouble was certainly on the horizon.
In other words, I had planned a trip to IKEA.
Pretty much any member of my family can vouch for the fact that coming with me to IKEA is quite literally a punishment from God himself.
I’ll basically suck you in to my vortex of indecisiveness, throw a few tantrums, and subject you to a special kind of flatulence that can only be the result of eating too many meatballs.
Four to six hours later, you’ll find that you’ve been spit out into a giant parking lot. Confused and exhausted, you’ll somehow be tricked into loading five hundred pounds of particle board furniture into the car while I go and enjoy a frozen yogurt.
I blame this on the fact that my Norwegian blood has some sort of adverse reaction to being surrounded by Swedish furniture, causing me to be crabby, demanding, and dare I say it…immature.
Uncle Kurt and Aunt Kris didn’t know what they had coming.
Scott clearly knew better.
Ironically, he’s sitting on the bench that bore the cryptic “Things are about to go horribly wrong…” message.
The shopping trip started off innocently enough with a trip to the cafeteria for some delicious meatballs.
The best part? They weren’t even pity meatballs! While not quite back to normal yet, Scott’s skin has made leaps and bounds since his hypocritical Botox revenge treatment. (Also known as a medical procedure to treat precancerous cells on his face. Whatever.)
Although…I can’t say I would have minded if Scott’s face had stayed a little red for our shopping spree. You see, the newfound confidence he gained from not looking like a burn victim gave him the idea that he could tell me we didn’t need a bookcase.
Despite the fact that we have five giant tubs of refugee books at home, patiently waiting for a particle board shelf to call home.
Also? The bookcase I was planning on purchasing is the exact same bookcase we had in Seattle.
The exact same bookcase Scott refused to pack in our moving truck.
The exact same bookcase Scott was referring to when he said “We can just buy a new one when we get to Minnesota.”
His. Exact. Words.
He’s changed his tune since then, which is why we spent a good twenty minutes in the IKEA warehouse engaging in a repetitive cycle of me loading the bookcase onto our cart, and him immediately putting it back.
It was embarrassing, uncomfortable, and may or may not have made us late for our dinner reservation.
I’m referring to it as “Katrina’s last stand.”
Which would imply it was the last time it happened.
Perhaps the title “Katrina’s inaugural hissy fit” would be more apropos.
I’m not quite sure what came over me. I think it was a combination of not wanting Uncle Kurt and Aunt Kris to think less of me, mixed with compassion for my crispy-skinned husband and the desire to secretly order a more expensive bookcase from the Ballard Designs website when we got home.
Whatever the case may be, I let Scott have his way.
I also proceeded to lose approximately seven more divorce land furniture debates.
I know. I’m getting soft.
In fact, we made it through the checkout with less than $400 worth of furniture and accessories. I don’t think that’s ever happened.
Despite a handful of outbursts and miniature meltdown when Scott wouldn’t let me buy a bag of Swedish Fish, it was quite possibly our most successful IKEA trip to date.
I smiled at Uncle Kurt, proudly exclaiming “See! That wasn’t that bad.”
I had forgotten that this November, Kurt and Kris had visited the Minneapolis IKEA with my sister Hayley the day after Thanksgiving.
He patiently smiled at me and said”Let’s just say you’re way more difficult than your sister.”
But I also have way cooler throw pillows.
(No offense, Hayley.)
Lucky for me, it’s impossible to disown a family member when they have a lighting fixture this fabulous in their living room.
Otherwise, I’m pretty sure I’d be an orphan. An orphan with an impeccably decorated home, but an orphan nonetheless.
I guess this is my way of humbly admitting that I owe anyone who’s ever ventured into the murky depths of IKEA with me a platter of meatballs.
Alright, alright. And a package of Swedish Fish.
In closing, I’d like to present you with one last nugget of wisdom from the benches at the Sculpture Park.
In other words, if I’m patient, I will get my bookcase.
Psst! Have you entered the Chanel Nail Polish Giveaway yet? Hurry — you only have until Thursday!