Friday, July 20, 2007


Funny what strikes a chord with people. So far, the post with the most comments is about organizing Eric's records. The one about sheets was surprisingly popular too. I guess it makes sense, since those of us lucky enough to have a bed spend a considerable amount of time in contact with it. The records, I have no explanation.

was a peach on Sunday.

First, we had a lovely gossip and catch up in the car. You would think that since becoming neighbours we would see each other all the time, but that has sadly not turned out to be the case.*

Second, Ikea. Sometimes I love Ikea, sometimes it freaks me right the fuck out. Too many choices, too much humanity, a squirm of people slugging along the mandated path through objects tiny and large screaming "buy me! buy me!". And that chair - the Poang - that has the pneumatic arms pressing it? I hate that thing. When I told Jennifer that I hoped it wasn't working, she said "I'm going to start keeping a list of the weird things that creep you and Adam out. He hates lamps." How can you hate lamps? I thought. And almost said. But then again, why would you bother hating a chair being pressed pneumatically?

To my great pleasure the pneumatic chair pressers were out of commission when we got there.

It was actually a fairly calm trip as Ikea jaunts go. As we were walking in, J. said "I love playing Ikea bingo."
"Ikea wha?"
"Crying baby, check. Couple melt down, check. Yknow."
But we didn't see either of those things. Nothing really untoward happened. Not very dramatic, but also not very aggravating.

The only small drama of the trip came from me. You know what I think is obnoxious? Companies asking for your postal code. Fuck that. When the cashier asked me for mine, I said "Unnnnh, for...?" and pretended to look very confused.

I know exactly what they need it for, and while "So we know what neighbourhoods want catalogues," is probably on that list, it's probably not as high as say: what neighbourhoods buy big ticket items? what else do those people buy? where's the real money? who should we care about? And may I say again: fuck that.

But because I am at least moderately polite, what came out of my mouth was "No thank you, I don't need a catalogue." Which is an answer to a totally different question, of course, but she didn't ask again.

I got all the stuff on my list, plus one or two more small things, and walked out having spent $22 - half of which was a purchase for Eric. J. spent less than $10. Success indeed.

Then the real reason for the trip: Linen Chest. Or Linen Closet. Or Bed Bath and Beyond. Or Beds and Other Things That Make Your Life Comfortable. I don't need to remember it because I don't have to go back there for a decade.

That's right:


They are 350 count, white, egyptian cotton sheets. They are, in fact, crisp but soft.

Jennifer's presence worked in a totally different way than I expected In the end, she did not just pick one and make me buy it. For the best really, because no one wants her friend sleeping on sheets she hates and thinking of you every time she hates them. Instead, I was acutely aware of how much time I was taking and how much circling we were doing and I did not want to take too long or drag her all over the hell's half acre of the warehouse-like store looking for the exact right thing at the same time I knew there would never be an exact right thing, but still wanting to make sure I had covered all my options.**

So before I went, I decided WHITE. And left the rest up to my quixotic brain and the pressure of another person to seal the deal.

I'm happy with them. At least with how they look. They feel nice on when I touch them, but they were just put on this morning. And I'm leaving town.

Oddly, the first person who will sleep on them is neither me nor my paramour, but my paramour's friend, Housesitter Ian, while I'm in Halifax. That did give me pause, though I don't know why. I considered putting the sheets on after their first wash, getting it on with Eric, and then re-washing them. But that's a lot of work for something that doesn't really matter. In a decade, will I remember that Ian was the first person to sleep on them?

Now, probably yes.

*Although, I was having some people over for drinks on my porch on Tuesday night when she and her paramour and their three dogs pulled up in his boxy orange car. All we could see of the inside of the car from the porch was two dogs staring at us - the humans being too high up to be visible. "Hey," I said, very pleasantly surprised, since J. had left just a couple hours earlier. "It's Jennifer and the Man of Science!" Carolyn looked puzzled. "You know those dogs' names?"

**You know what would make my life easier? If linen stores were organized differently. Instead of by brand, say, which I'm sure the companies pay for (so the richer companies can get better spaces and it's way harder to comparison shop) it would make much more sense to organize sheets by size (king, queen, etc.), then type of sheet (set, flat, fitted, pillowcase, skirt, etc.), by material (including thread count), by solid or pattern and then by colour (or dominant colour, in the case of patterns). Okay, that sounds like a lot of work to put stuff away, sure, but think of how much time it saves in the end! And I'm gonna have to do it, yes, I am going to say something in the exact words of my father: I'm neat because I'm lazy. Why would I waste minutes searching around for something right at the moment I need it when I could just spend 5 seconds putting it in its right spot to begin with?


Zoom! said...

They look delicious, very inviting.

I agree with you completely on the postal code thing. What irks me even more is when I arrive at a check-out and they demand my phone number.

Anonymous said...

just to clarify I don't really hate lamps, I just think that the vast majority of them, like over 90%, are fucking ugly.