Abigail M. Schilling

Yesterday, after promising my friends that we could all go to Ikea "this afternoon" I got caught up at work with an errand that I still can only describe as a "box thing" and not because it's work-related so I can't talk about it but because I STILL DON'T UNDERSTAND.

Basically, I drove around Greater Los Angeles County with seven different Google maps going to places like this box manufacturer (and yes, their logo is an elephant with a peanut. And yes, their office is comprised entirely of elephant paraphernalia.) and filling my car with more stuff than Yosemite.

That whole excursion took two hours (again, no explanation) before I finally returned home to begin the Ikea excursion. Kathy and I had decided to get matching duvet covers (not like twins, like roommates) to help "tie our room together" and then we figured we also get in some fljaarken.

What followed at Ikea was an incident in which my friends had fair enough reason to hate me because my reasoning skills post-"box thing" were unreliable to say the least. Of course, I think Ikea is to blame partially for this incident--their store set-up doesn't allow for a quick jet to the duvet section. By the time we finally got out of the show room and into the duvet room we had been at the store for well over an hour and we still hadn't picked (matching, like roommates) duvet covers.

And then we had to decide. The problem with two people deciding on one thing is that both people need to be in communication with one another and when a "box thing" has interfered with all airwaves to the outside world one person (me) has a hard time explaining to her poor roommate what she means.

Eventually, we decided on duvet covers (cream for her, green for me) and then needed to get sheets! At this point, Heather (who had come under assumptions equal probably to those I had when entering into the "box thing" situation), started finding uses for shit like Joddla, namely, murder-type uses. (If you get a Joddla lodged in your throat you're done for.)

The sheet decision was harder than I anticipated because they had a burlap option. As in: I could get a burlap sheet for only $1.99. Heather pretty much wanted to kill me at this point because I was seriously considering burlap and that's so something Schilbo would do and she was trying to leave Redding. I tried to explain to her that having burlap sheets was like kissing a guy with a beard. She wouldn't listen. In the end, Kathy and I decided upon non-burlap sheets. Mostly because I was scared of Heather's Joddla's wielding.

But when you have a new duvet cover and new sheets you need new pillowcases too. Easy enough: just match the former, right? Well, then I was back to burlap and Heather was back to wanting to kill me and I COULDN'T STOP BUYING THINGS. In the end (two hours later) I had a (burlap) pillowcase (it was only $0.99!!), a ergonomic pillow (it was cheaper than Brookstone version), and a standard pillow (which is only for show because it cost THREE DOLLARS and is filled with NOTHING). Kathy was only surviving on the knowledge that she had adorable new things and Heather was not surviving. I'm pretty sure if she hadn't been promised dinner following she would have quit (life) right there in the store.

Heather, let this be my public apology. I promise that next time when I have to spend hours deciding pillows, I won't make it sound like fun.