We still don’t have any bedside tables. We moved in on August 1st. It’s September 24th.
After three emotionally fraught trips to Ikea at the beginning of August, I swore I would never return to that god-forsaken place again. I tried buying crappy bedside tables from Argos (epic fail), anything to keep myself from having to return to Ikea.
But here we are, nearly two months after moving in, still without any bedside tables.
It is time.
Now that I really have nothing of any consequence filling my days, there is no reason for me not to make another trip to Ikea. I shall go. I shall buy cheap bedside tables. I shall also buy cheap couch cushions. The rats have been very bad and prone to chewing on the preexisting couch cushions. I have devised a plan that involves taking the cushions off of the couch (storing them under the bed or something) and lining the couch back with cheap disposable cushions (after first draping the couch in a large throw/cover). Given the fact that the couch was terribly uncomfortable to start with, the removal of the unnecessarily large and imposing back cushions and their replacement with smaller, more-welcoming and less-likely-to-be-chewed cushions is just a good idea anyway.
Yes. Time to get. shit. done.
Ikea. Alright let’s do this. Leerooooooy Jeeeenkinnnnns!!!
Until you spend a week in the Spongebob room at my dad’s house.
Not exactly the most helpful thing, printing the ‘best before’ date in Japanese.
This bedazzle-head rules my world tonight.
Yes, that is a toupée made of rhinestones.
I haven’t been posting for the past couple of days because I haven’t been up to any cooking magic (just your basic pastas and stir fries here), and I’ve been all-consumed with flat hunting. Or maybe it’s just that I haven’t been feeling very internetty in the evenings, preferring to just switch off and watch a couple episodes of Battlestar Gallactica.
In any event, here I am updating. I went to Wandsworth today to look at a flat. I wasn’t planning on doing flat viewings today when I started off the day, but an agent got back to me about one of the eleventy billion flats I inquired about online, and it fit the bill on paper: it was in a highspeed cable broadband area and it had a bathtub. I looked at the pictures, and they sure were promising. I looked at the Google street view, and the area didn’t creep me out. It was right off a trendy street in Wandsworth and around the corner from the train station. I was off. And after viewing the flat, I am in love. It’s available 2 August, which is a bit earlier than we wanted to move, but hopefully we can get out of the last month here without actually having to pay their penalty (one month’s rent). Because that would suck. Anyway, Red and I are going back for a second viewing (so he can see it) tomorrow night. The estate agent made it seem like a matter of urgency, which gets me all worried. I don’t want some other person to snag my flat out from under my nose. And I wouldn’t be surprised if it did. It was a spacious one-bedroom flat with original wood flooring in an old residential block in the heart of Wandsworth (the good part) with lots of storage space and a thoroughly modern kitchen.
And now for something completely unrelated.
You think it’s just another day in the grocery store. And then…
So, I went to go look for a USB cable so I could transfer some pictures old and new from my Blackberry onto my desktop so I could blog about them. But when your husband works with computers, sometimes hilarity ensues from simple tasks like this.
Wait a minute. Something’s not right about this…
Ah ha. Who knew that the USB cable I know and love comes in adorable-but-useless mini size? Not me.
Anyway, I found the right cable among the bazillion cables we have laying around here and transferred the pictures.
I was mostly doing this because, on my way home from picking up my two term papers and my dissertation critical evaluation (distinction, merit, distinction), I noticed how very civilised Bloomsbury is and took a picture of it as proof:
Hey, Billy. This scaffolding is an eyesore. We can’t have that… I know! Let’s add some flower planting baskets. Transformationz!!1!
And while I was transferring photos, I noticed some I took back in America.
Americans love Twilight. And by Twilight, I mean Edward Cullen. And by Edward Cullen, I mean Robert Pattinson. Look! There are three separate biographies on Robert Pattinson!
And pancakes in America are GIGANTIC.
Look! They’re bigger than my face! I managed to eat one of them.