On Saturday I woke up all early and walked to the current location of my car in order to meet gal J. at her home in Roxborough. During my time in Philly I walked past this street corner building all the live long time. It's old school and it's way out of business and I have no doubt that in the next year, maybe two, it will be renovated so that no one will ever know that it supplied fresh meats (or, as you can't see, chickens and eggs). But I like it all not redone...which is funny...since its the last remnant of what the neighborhood once was but this kind of storefront is all over the frickin' place in other locations in Philly. The difference is that these other abandoned storefronts are surrounded by equally sad houses whereas this neighborhood is quite gentrified. At least in a six block radius east and west...ish.
S. and N. came with us on our trek of the day. J. was willing to accompany me on my trip to Ikea. The sole goal of which, for me, was to buy a bed. S. insisted on wearing his train goggles. Yeah, that's his own phrase...sweet.
Once at Ikea, S. also thought it'd be great to get into one of the display beds. I thought that was fine...S. even, of his own volition, took off his shoes...but J. was a little less sure and asked the dude helping me with bed questions. Turns out that if S. was a year older it would not be okay but his well-behaved-ness and youth made it okay.
So I chose a bed frame. I chose it before even getting there. It spoke to me. It was totally the frame for me. Then I got convinced, by my mother (when I called to make sure it made sense to buy all this stuff...frankly with funds given/lent to me by my parents....that I wasn't making a mistake) my mother said I might as well get a box spring as well. It was stressful. Then we had lunch. I ordered a kid's size of mac and cheese and a kids' size of Swedish meatballs. Neither made me very pleased.
Other things, also, didn't make me pleased. Like when I went down to the 'pick up your shit for yourself' warehouse and had to maneuver a full size box spring onto a cart by myself. Yeah. It took me forever. The carts don't have brakes, so I'd have to leverage the heavy ass thing on its edge and every time I treid to move it forward the cart would slip away. This happened nine million times. I saw people walk by the aisle (that I was at the end of) and this included Ikea personnel without even thinking about helping me. Now, of course, fellow customers were under no responsibility to assist me but, really, ugh. So eventually I maneuvered the stupid too narrow and short cart up against a wall in order to scoot the damn boxspring onto the cart. Having achieved this an Ikea dude came up to me and asked me if I needed help. Son of a bitch. He was actually quite nice and helped me get my mattress onto the cart as well but, I"m not going to lie, I could have done my mattress on my own...it was light as a mother effin' penny. The effects of my boxspring/cart efforts were a slight shaking of my arms, a definite exacerbation of my feeling out of control and a general grumpiness (it reminded me of trips to Hannaford in my last year of college...where I'd get entirely overwhelmed by the experience of a grocery store and found myself emotionally shutting down). In the end I checked out successfully, spent a lot of money to get the stuff I just spent a lot of money to buy delivered to the apartment and left. And, oh yes, it rained the entire time. Except walking to my car and driving to Ikea.
S. and N. came with us on our trek of the day. J. was willing to accompany me on my trip to Ikea. The sole goal of which, for me, was to buy a bed. S. insisted on wearing his train goggles. Yeah, that's his own phrase...sweet.
Once at Ikea, S. also thought it'd be great to get into one of the display beds. I thought that was fine...S. even, of his own volition, took off his shoes...but J. was a little less sure and asked the dude helping me with bed questions. Turns out that if S. was a year older it would not be okay but his well-behaved-ness and youth made it okay.
So I chose a bed frame. I chose it before even getting there. It spoke to me. It was totally the frame for me. Then I got convinced, by my mother (when I called to make sure it made sense to buy all this stuff...frankly with funds given/lent to me by my parents....that I wasn't making a mistake) my mother said I might as well get a box spring as well. It was stressful. Then we had lunch. I ordered a kid's size of mac and cheese and a kids' size of Swedish meatballs. Neither made me very pleased.
Other things, also, didn't make me pleased. Like when I went down to the 'pick up your shit for yourself' warehouse and had to maneuver a full size box spring onto a cart by myself. Yeah. It took me forever. The carts don't have brakes, so I'd have to leverage the heavy ass thing on its edge and every time I treid to move it forward the cart would slip away. This happened nine million times. I saw people walk by the aisle (that I was at the end of) and this included Ikea personnel without even thinking about helping me. Now, of course, fellow customers were under no responsibility to assist me but, really, ugh. So eventually I maneuvered the stupid too narrow and short cart up against a wall in order to scoot the damn boxspring onto the cart. Having achieved this an Ikea dude came up to me and asked me if I needed help. Son of a bitch. He was actually quite nice and helped me get my mattress onto the cart as well but, I"m not going to lie, I could have done my mattress on my own...it was light as a mother effin' penny. The effects of my boxspring/cart efforts were a slight shaking of my arms, a definite exacerbation of my feeling out of control and a general grumpiness (it reminded me of trips to Hannaford in my last year of college...where I'd get entirely overwhelmed by the experience of a grocery store and found myself emotionally shutting down). In the end I checked out successfully, spent a lot of money to get the stuff I just spent a lot of money to buy delivered to the apartment and left. And, oh yes, it rained the entire time. Except walking to my car and driving to Ikea.
2 comments:
Did you pick up the third piece, the cross bar support?
mc
so, first of all, that kid is awesome, is he playing cards in the bed too? hilarious. second, is that food from ikea? i dunno, that just seems wrong.
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