Whenever Andy and I are coming off a rough patch, I get cocky and start putting our relationship in really ridiculous positions of peril, almost like a dare.
Like, I dare you to want to divorce me and find where I’ve hidden your passport and your grandma’s ashes.
While he’s all, let’s go on a date night, I’m like, let’s join a swingers website!
It’s why he finds me positively adorable.
Which is why when he asked me if I wanted to go to Home Depot to buy some paint, I had to push it further and be like, let’s drive up to Ikea and stay the night, with the kids!
Andy has never been to Ikea. It almost wasn’t even fair, he had no idea what he was agreeing to. I blinded him with promises of meatballs and cheap wine and carts that roll sideways.
We drove up on a Saturday, it’s about an hour, certainly not worthy of booking a hotel and spending the night, but my house is messy, and I like to be away from it until it gets it’s act together.
First of all, while I am totally loving this whole iPhone thing, there is an empty place in my insides where the Droid navigation system used to be, also, I have quickly realized I don’t know how to get anywhere.
Is this how Terminator happens? First, we stop actually knowing people’s phone numbers because oh hey, it’s in my phone, and now, we stop know how to get places because, why should we, the phone robot tells me where to turn the big wheel.
Also, I don’t like paying for things, and the iPhone navigation apps are super expensive (disclaimer: I label anything more expensive than absolutely anything on the Taco Bell menu as too expensive, which is the most fun game to play at pharmacies. WHAT YOU WANT ME TO PAY FOUR NACHO BELGRANDES FOR FUCKING NASAL SPRAY!?), but after some searching, I found a free app called Waze, and OMG. It’s been love at first sight, not only is it the best navigation system ever, it also is basically like I’m playing a giant game of Pac-Man WITH MY CAR.
Second, taking your kids to Ikea on a weekend is like entering a real life Hunger Games, and they’re legacies from District 2 and you and your husband are the two poor, dumb asses from District 12.
But, you’re trying to stay positive, so you’re like, I don’t know, maybe this won’t be so bad, and it’s not for the first 30 minutes, or what I like to call, the opening ceremony, which is basically when we go eat meatballs and give all the kids paper rulers and golf pencils, because what bad things ever happen to people when there are golf pencils involved?
Forty five minutes later, Peeta (or Andy, whatever) and I are hiding in the frames section, and I swear I saw Gigi gut and eat a live goat.
Why did we have to come here again?
I like their plastic silverware for the kids and I wanted a lamp for my office that looks like a vagina.
What the hell is wrong with you, Brittany?
That’s how you know things are bad…he used my name. Brittany. He never says Brittany, in fact, I am almost positive during our wedding, he didn’t say my name at all, and just pointed at me twice during our vows.
So, hearing my name made me cry, which actually wasn’t that jarring, as we had already publicly cried near the $1 slipper and umbrella bin, and bounced in and out of trial separation between the kitchen and office showrooms.
I tried to keep it together, following the arrows on the floor and the exit signs on the ceilings, just trying to find the fucking down elevator, praying Haymitch would take pity on me and drop me down a parachute of wine and vicodin, but I think the arrows were in Swedish. Hours have passed, so I start thinking about just finding a warm bunk bed to hide in until nightfall, so we could regroup while we waited for the Capital to flash the faces of the dead across the white, room temperature Ikea sky.
We eventually made it down, and because Andy looked pale and was losing lots of blood, I bypassed the warehouse, and just loaded the cart with chocolate bars, votives and creepy circus hand puppets for the kids, because at that point, we didn’t fucking care, except we accidentally got into the express aisle, and we have more that 15 items, and the check out girl was rolling her eyes and being mean and I was like, LISTEN PRESIDENT SNOW, I WILL EAT THESE POISONOUS BERRIES RIGHT NOW AND THEN EVERYONE WILL SEE HOW HORRIBLE YOU ARE, AND NEVER COME HERE FOR WHITE FUTONS OR PRETENTIOUS ABSTRACT ART BATHMATS AGAIN. And she was all, my name is Rachel, and I was like, I’m sorry Rachel, could you just be a sweetie and check us out please?
Katniss – Ett
The Capitol – Noll