I went to the IKEA store in Stoughton yesterday. I was prepared. I brought a list -- with item names, serial numbers, and prices. I brought snacks -- an apple, a bottle of water, a Larabar, and an iced coffee. And I had a time limit. I power-walked the whole time. I power-walked through the showroom, head whipping side to side. When the arrows led me through the children's section, I walked even faster.
I took measurements in my new apartment. I took photos (they're labeled "future site of my bed" and "future site of sofa"). And then I realized I need a moving permit from the City of Boston.
So I went to City Hall. I paid my $8 for the signs and $55 for the permit. It was my first time in City Hall. Hard to believe, right?
Someone at City Hall likes to decorate.
L and I have been texting about sofas. Actually, we've been texting about several different topics. Our conversations overlap. We text back and forth fast like gunfire. Sofas. Blue or grey. Blue. Sofa or loveseat. Loveseat. And we cope with the iPhone auto-correction. Because sometimes "Pilates" becomes "oilseed" and "work-a-holic" becomes "work-a-holocaust."
I swear I'll get back to cooking and running and writing soon. I swear. But my mixing bowls and my tennis racket are already packed. And right now I need to go find a new sofa.