Memories from the not so distant past : my lunchtime visit to Ikea.

Changes are afoot. Big changes. Huge changes. All good though. But they are the kind of changes that come with a price. A price to be payed at the Ikea cash register. Meaning I will have to brave those hallowed hallways again. But I’ve learned from past experiences,I will not attempt it during my lunchbreak anymore…

Dear friends, family and random strangers who read this blog I have a very important announcement. As for today I give you the right to question my sanity. But just for today mind, so take advantage of it…

I know that there are people who question my sanity on a daily basis. I have no idea why. No really! I mean doesn’t everyone keep a pair of ballet flats in their car for when those high heels the office dress-code forces you to wear get just too damn unbearable at the end of the day and the last thing you want to do after spending 8 or 9 hours bounding about on the balls of your feet is driving with those suckers? And do we not all place our children’s loudest and most annoying toys on strategic burglars-are-sure-to-step-on-it-and-the-noise-will- scare-them-shitless-and-then-they-will-leave –places when our significant others are absent and we are spending the night alone with two little kids? 

Oh, you don’t. *scratches head*

Never mind.

So, while I am a fairly normal person *cough*today I tethered dangerously close to the realm of insanity. I decided to go IKEA during my lunch break. Now unlike what you hear or read in the newspaper we Belgies are relatively efficient people and we do not take very long lunch breaks. One hour suffices us to eat a sandwich and catch up on the latest office gossip. One hour. Going to the IKEA 5km from my office, buying something and getting back. One hour.

I’m pretty sure my morning coffee hasbeen spiked by something. Remind me to tell the maintenance guy to clean the coffee machine will you? Perhaps there is a fungus in the filter which causes hallucinations. That or Management is experimenting on us…

The moment I set foot in those hallowed halls the sheer foolishness of my plan dawned on me. For a minute I thought about driving back, but the patron saints of Determined-Shopping-For-Their-Offspring-Mothers came to me in my hour of need. They inspired me to bring my quest to a good end.

Fueled with determination and may-have-been-spiked-coffee I set forth. Darting through the hallways, scanning the displays with my now x-ray eyes, not giving the Lakmussen, the Benno’s, the Eivors , Bjursta’s and such like the attention they usually get. I didn’t pause to look at the way things where organized in the mock up rooms. Normally that would cost me a good half hour or something like that, enough to satisfy the voyeur inside of me. For mothers with little children whose living room is constantly strewn with Duplo blocks, IKEA is one big peep show. Mock up rooms, which are clean and Duplo-free, motherhood porn, baby!  The catalogue, full of page after page of well organized rooms? My version of Playboy Magazine.

But none of that today, just a quickie with the new fabric for the Ektrop chairs (a girl has needs, don’t judge). I was on a mission! Lucky for me those ballet flats came in handy (see husband, I told you that keeping them in the car is a good idea). I was able to dart through the shoppers, narrowly avoiding collision with a candle display when a large blond woman pushed me aside as she ran squalling with joy to a new type of side table.  After ducking behind a panel or two and jumping through a Narnia-like closet or six I arrived at my first stop: the children’s section. 

In all the Ikea’s I’ve visited the children’s section is always at the very end of the shoppers-track. Ever wondered why? Because IKEA knows it is porn-for-mothers and wants us to enjoy the experience as long as possible.

The may-have-been-spiked-coffee had heightened my senses and I found my first target without much trouble. One Len Stjärna baby duvet. Score!  Next up : the picture frame section. 

Quickly I darted past the glass and dinnerware displays in the Market place, not even glancing at the cute little serving bowls (Don’t worry my loves, we’ll meet again soon…),  Picture frames I needed! There they were. Hah: two Ribba frames so that I can finally put those cute pictures of the girls on my desk. Score! 

Now for the exit. Here I must add that on the way out I was seduced by a Yngaren-set which I ended up buying. Hey, I’m not perfect and I never claimed sainthood. I am just a mere mortal and let the fact that I hadn’t succumbed to the temptations of the closet organizing section stand as proof for my strength of will.

At the cash register, self scan, pay. Past the Swedish shop, no time for meatballs, the office is calling me back.  Across the parking, into the car, over the Brussels’ ring and back at the office at 13hr03! It was 12hr11 when I left the car park!Mission accomplished!

High on success and may-have-been-spiked-coffee I sat behind my desk. And then it finally hit me: I hadn’t packed any lunch and the cafeteria was closed.

PS: Not the change has nothing whatsoever to do with a baby! I’m not pregnant.

4 thoughts on “Memories from the not so distant past : my lunchtime visit to Ikea.

  1. Before (as in before children), I used to keep a pair of ‘driving shoes’ in my car (i.e. flip flops). I also had ‘office shoes’ (i.e. flip flops), so totally sane.

    But going to IKEA? In less than an hour? Notsomuch. :)

  2. Here in the US the baby section is right next to the cafeteria at the top of the stairs – a quick turn to the left when arriving and there you are, instead of following the path straight ahead to couches.
    Sorry you didn’t grab the meatballs on the way. Sounds like you needed them.

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