We're hosting a fuller house than usual this year for Thanksgiving, which is Very Exciting for me because 1) more people mean an excuse to make more food, even though I already make 14 times more food than necessary every year but I REFUSE TO LEARN ANYTHING, and 2) more people staying overnight mean I am gaining entire blocks of hours that I now can spend offering those people things to eat.
"It's been 30 minutes since you last had some pie. Should I reheat some stuffing for you? How about a little turkey nightcap? Okay, fine. But I'm waking you up at 2 a.m. to feed you some yams. DEAL WITH IT."
*does happy gluttony dance*
In preparation, we went to Ikea on Saturday so I could obtain replacements for all the plates and wine glasses we've broken since last Thanksgiving, and also to procure some luxury items for our overnight guests. Like "pillows." And "a functional shower curtain." I know, right? So overboard. Just wait until you hear about the new factory-refurbished vacuum cleaner I ordered for the express purpose of vacuuming up dead spiders in the basement. I am the greatest hostess in the world. Now shut up and eat some cheese.
While we were in Ikea, I mentioned to Jason that it's truly a testament to how far our relationship has come and evolved over the years, because I can't even remember the last time we broke down and had an Ikea Fight. Everywhere around us, every time, there's at least one couple having an Ikea Fight — the rookies are doing it right out in the showroom, even though everybody knows you gotta save that shit until you hit the self-service area, because there's no sense fighting over what color end table to buy until you make it down to Aisle 30 Bin 46, where you'll find out that they're sold out of that end table in all of the colors ANYWAY, and one of you gets that crazy "I'M NOT LEAVING HERE WITHOUT AN END TABLE, ANY END TABLE, JUST GRAB AN END TABLE AND RUUUUUN" look in your eye while the other person's like, "I dunno, maybe we should just come back another time." And then you MURDER that other person with a patio umbrella.
Jason and I no longer murder each other with patio umbrellas. Haven't done it in years! Instead, we generally head to self-service with two choices/options in the first place and then buy whichever one is actually there, because that is clearly the one the Ikea Gods want us to buy. And one does not question the Ikea Gods. Thank you for not having the BIRKELAND three-drawer dresser in white, Ikea Gods, even though that's the one we expressly came here to purchase. I'm sure the white and gray NYVOLL we bought instead will be fine. Or at least look somewhat not-terrible for a couple years months until it falls apart and we once again return to Ikea for our annual sacrifice of sanity in pursuit of Not Having To Make Real Commitments To Real Furniture. Blessed be!
If you happened to be at Ikea this Saturday, you may remember me as the mom who was merrily spinning her 8-year-old around in a display LÖMSK swivel chair and who got a little too into it and spun him so hard that the chair 1) fell over and 2) skidded three feet across the showroom floor with her child still encased in its cocoon-y hood. You may remember me because I did this in front of no less than 200 other people, I swear, all of whom gasped and probably wrote about it on Facebook.
Anyway, I'm sorry about that, Noah. But I just believe it's best to teach children about the dual wonderfulness/horribleness of Ikea at a young age. That chair seems awesome, but then you get it home and it's missing two GWORKLAKS and one HODORGOF and you're like, I don't know, man, I feel like maybe we should have gotten the SVINGA instead; I know! Let's go back to Ikea this weekend and look at some shelves.