My bedroom at home is a metaphorical bomb site. My new flat is a literal building site. It's a sad state of affairs when one's tiny, sterile glass office is the most pleasant environment on offer. The light at the end of the tunnel does exist, I'm sure, but I can't claim to have glimpsed it yet. However, in order to collect some items urgently required by my lovely builder and thus hopefully expedite the moment of first viewing of said end-of-tunnel light, this afternoon I left work, commuted across London, jumped into my mum's car and drove south to Ikea, Croydon.
An hour later after a journey through the rush hour, I started to wend through the showroom. It was really just as I'd remembered it, vast, irritating and invaluable. One question did continually arise as I wove my merry way with wonky trolley through the labyrinthine hell: why, in the name of sanity, do they allow children in this funforsaken place? Besides that, who in their right mind would bring their offspring to an environment that is already so devoid of peace and low blood pressure? I think once one's journey has been delayed by a small person more than five times, it should be legal to mow them down and store their remains in whatever handy Swedish-designed vessel happens to be nearby.
Miraculously, despite the junior hold-ups, I managed to make it through the showroom and down into the pick-up aisles fairly quickly. Excitably, I started collecting all my items, stacking the first couple of doors onto my flatbed trolley and feeling rather independent and capable. Full of the joys of minor achievements, I wheeled over to the appropriate place for my bathroom sink unit, where I had been personally assured that a box would be waiting, but - horrors - found only an empty space. My jaw dropped. This was the vital component. I had come all this way specifically for my bathroom sink unit. All the other purchases were secondary. Sure, I could buy the sink that would sit atop the unit, but without the unit, my builder would be unable to plumb anything anywhere. At first I was agog that, despite having checked stock availability online earlier this afternoon and then rechecked in the bathroom department on arrival at the store, there was still no sign of the unit. Then I became a bit grumpy. But then I realised that there was nothing else for it. I bought what I had found, got back in the car, and set off for Wembley.
An hour later, I arrived in the West London Ikea and began the process all over again. Thankfully, the missing items were present and correct and I think by this point it must have been bedtime because the child-count was dramatically and blissfully lower. Things were generally calmer and I left the store, shopping list completed as far as was possible, feeling much happier. There is not a cell in my body that believes I will finish this project without at least eighty more late-night trips to one or other of the branches, and returning to Homebase/B&Q is also inevitable, so there's no point developing too passionate a hatred. But for future reference, don't trust the stock check. It ain't over 'til the sink unit's in the boot of your car.
Can I see the light or am I merely hallucinating with exhaustion?
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