The day before our furniture arrived, Will and I braved IKEA to purchase light fixtures, clothing wardrobes, and the inevitable odds and ends. Our apartment, as it goes 'round these parts, has nary a closet, pantry, shelf, etc., so storage furniture is a must. We don't have a car any more, so venturing to IKEA both meant a train ride followed by a bus voyage as well as having to arrange for the items to be shipped to us after we bought them. As harrowing as the journey was, the shopping experience was more so. It ended, as our IKEA trips always do, with me guarding three carts near the checkout while Will races through the warehouse aisles to try to pull down more boxes without getting a free-with-purchase hernia. This time, as I wrestled the carts into their position in line, an IKEA employee stopped concernedly to ask me a question. After she realized that I spoke English she paused, thought for a moment, and said "Alone?" I think she saw a frazzled pregnant woman with sweat on her brow and hundreds of pounds of un-assembled furniture and believed that if I were alone, I needed some overall life advice. I smiled as happily as I could muster and told her that my husband was here, too. She was relieved.
Today began with a shock, with the IKEA movers arriving at 7 am. And without warning. Will had some choice phrases for this early-bird special that were not appropriate for unborn ears. And so began the only day more strenuous than the IKEA shopping day: IKEA build day. If Will doesn't lapse into a shell-shocked coma state - and I would not blame him if he did given the number of times he's danced this dance for the sake of our household - he will spend today poring over cryptic drawings of happy people easily putting together millions of unlabeled parts to end up with usable furniture.
Keep Dr. W. A. Grissom in your thoughts today. The photo is as symbolic as it is real: the blood Will sheds for his family (knuckle skin torn off courtesy of his superior drill bits).
And HOORAY for hanging up clothes!!
Will, you get bonus points for this one. I would never be brave enough to take a pregnant woman to IKEA, let alone by bus and train.
ReplyDeleteTo be fair, I am a very insistent pregnant person :)
ReplyDeleteThe alternative--stay home and not take my daughter--indeed might carry a price making a plane, train, ship, bus and a cab chump change mere chicken feed. Of course, you are baking the family and creating a home so this seems reasonable.
ReplyDeleteKnowing that someone with a PhD in engineering also struggles with Ikea assembly makes me feel much better about the bookshelf it took me 3 hours to put togther. Happy furniture-making, and post pics of the apartment once it's all arranged!
ReplyDeleteOddly, every woman I see in the Canton IKEA seems to be pregnant. I think I became pregnant just from going into that store. Danny may have too, I don't know. Anyway, glad to see that the German IKEA employees treat their expecting shoppers with empathy. I will say a silent prayer to the gods of unassembled furniture for Will. And send him a skin graft.
ReplyDeleteI think you and Danny have a class action on your hands. IKEA can't get away with impregnating a bunch of Michiganders! Bonus that the two of you will surely land the cover of OK magazine once you're both showing at the same time...
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