It is always nice to have a 'day off' two weeks after returning to work from a two weeks away! It was Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and our courthouse was closed. What to do? That was the question. Samantha and I had discussed various option including going to 'the range' and perhaps seeing the new Mary Poppins film. We did neither! This followed an evening of watching the 'Blood moon'.The morning started early and I took on tasks of a domestic engineer and visual technician. Once the house and windows sparkled, I left to go north. I called Samantha to say I was on my way. "Okay, I just have to run a hoover over downstairs", came the response. I was a little perplexed, and anyone who knows my daughter will understand this. "Sorry", said I. "Must be something wrong with the phone. It sounded like you said you were going to hoover!" The child, and consequently adult, who 'hung up' clothes on the floor, and thought that washing up was something that could be done over time, (time having no limit,) whose room was likened to the abyss, and living conditions resembled a rubbish tip, has had something of a metamorphosis! As I became my mother, so she is becoming me! However, I digress!
Our first stop was Ikea. The 'small' breakfast looked rather tempting. For $1 we could have a chicken sausage, egg and potatoes. Not quite a 'full English'. We had taken rather a large sample of crisps on our way in, but thought it might be fun to go off piste and splurge on a petite petite dejeuner! Or in Swedish, Liten liten frukost! A linguist I am not, but breakfast in any language sounded good! When visiting the Swedish warehouse, we find the need to walk around each section without deviation. However, if we took the shortcut to the restaurant, once fulfilled we could go back to the beginning and start again. We almost ran through the doors that had 'shortcut to restaurant' above them, and found the 'shortcuts' not to be shortcuts at all. We should have gone to the exit (where we entered) and gone backwards through the store. It all sounds very complicated, but the large facility is so structured it seems rude to divert from the floor plan. It is one place I do not digress! We reached the restaurant and were told that breakfast was no longer being served! We had to 'start again'. Through the store we ran, back to where the crisps had been replenished, took another handful, and started again!
I was rather perturbed. Sitting in the entrance was a sofa. It was brightly coloured with a floral print. It could only be described as 'chintz'. Why was I perturbed? Who remembers Ikea coming to England? Who remembers the advertising? Their slogan was, "Chuck out your chintz!" I remember being told I was 'so English', by my Dutch friend, Anneke, when she looked at my (in my opinion) beautiful, and new chintz settee. "Why yes, I am!" I answered somewhat defensively! Overnight, my beautiful new suite became archaic, unstylish, and outdated. "Go to Ikea. Get something modern!" Obviously, this had a very profound affect upon me. I was trying to explain my level of anxiety to my daughter, who could not see a problem with the sofa. "There is no problem with the sofa", said I, looking for a member of staff to whom to complain. "There is a problem having this sofa in Ikea. Ikea don't do chintz!" I can't digress in the store, but they have distressed in a most dramatic way! (Chintz in itself if dramatic!) Most of the staff were not born when Ikea came to England! Most didn't know there was an Ikea in Australia! Oh, or England! I suppose I should have reveled in the fact that the giant furniture manufacturer had finally succumbed to chintz, but t would appear I still held a grudge! However, grudge aside, I shopped in the store, and found a piece of furniture that was perfect for my requirements. It was not chintz. It was typical, original, Ikea wood! A stepped unit for my kitchen.
The Ikea trip was a long one. We spent a long time deliberating over many items. It appears that a boycott would have been futile, as the queues were very lengthy. We stood for about fifteen minutes waiting to pay for our very plain items. The crisps had not been replenished and so a third round was not possible. Going to the mall was a necessity. Samantha had to return a garment bought before Christmas and get a refund. Whilst she was in the shop I sat in the sunshine and chatted to Richard. We left the area as soon as we possibly could. At one time, before our emigration, we would spend hours in the mall and then go to another, and another. Now we cringe at the idea of having to go. How times change!
We did not deviate from our 'route' and only went to the places that we had intended, but we spent much longer than planned in each place. I finally arrived home a little after five. Dana was still at the office. Although this was a national holiday, like the Swedish warehouse's original aversion to chintz, no one appeared to remember!
I emptied the car, and once everything was put away, emptied the cardboard box that held my flat pack unit. As instructed in the instructions I laid out all the parts and counted them to make sure nothing was missing. It took at least ten minutes to work out what the first picture meant. There was only one way the pieces could fit together, but there were two pictures in the booklet. One had a large 'X' through it. I finally realised which way was the wrong way and was quite confused as to why anyone would do it that way. (Why did I buy chintz?) Each to their own! It did not take too long to realise that I should not actually think when putting this object together, but just follow blindly as the instructions were quite explicit, albeit not obvious. The unit was put together upside down, as instructed! The last piece to be fitted was rather stubborn. I changed out the dowels, turned them around, and swapped them back again. I could see that it wanted to slot in but just needed an extra push. I am sure that I would not have been hauled away had I used a hammer, despite the large 'X' through the picture of the little cartoon attempting to do so, but I did not dare. Nowhere, and I searched from cover to cover, did it have a 'X' through a picture of the little cartoon using a rolling pin! Obviously because it works! So, now I know. I stood the unit up the correct way and put it in place. Perfect! I stood knees bent slightly, fist clenched, and rose to full height with my arms in the air and shouted, "Yes". I did it again, and in full defiance shouted, "Chintz!" It felt so good! Sometimes I feel so alone! Dana thought the unit was very nice, and he liked the new navy-faced clock I bought for the bedroom. He did not understand the anxiety regarding the chintz. However, proof is actually on the Internet!
It was back to work on Tuesday. We received a call from my younger grandson during the morning. We were experiencing another mild day, and coats were not necessary, but Jamie wanted to show us the snow that was falling quite heavily outside his window. He was very excited, unlike his mum who saw a 'snow day' possibility on Wednesday and disruption abound!
The four day work week seemed to be as long as a five day week. I was feeling a little out of sorts as my weekend was going to be altered somewhat. We had our annual meeting of our homeowners association. It is a deviation to routine, but I managed to live through it! The 'usual suspects' arrived and we all greeted each other with hugs and exclamations of delight, as we do not usually see each other during the winter months! A handful of new faces were in the crowd. As is routine, we all introduced ourselves to the group (a very small group considering the amount of units in our complex) and I gave my usual schpeel. "For those who don't recognise me, I am the one who wears the white cap when living at the pool in the summer. I don't go home much!" One of the board members explained the facts to the few new faces. "It is actually Tracie's pool. She just let's us use it". The look of confusion skimmed along their faces, not unlike the look on mine when I saw the chintz sofa! (Let it go!) We had a discussion about the dumpsters in our complex and the possibility of changing to individual 'commercial' trash cans. The board were not keen but wanted input. "We call them wheelie bins in England", I said, giving my 'twopenneth worth'. "Huh?" said the crowd in unison. "Again", said my husband. After repeating the phrase, 'wheelie bin', to the crowd, I gave my opinion. "The first week we had the 'wheelie bin' (again, say it again!) the dustbin lorry ate my wheelie bin (again, say it again). It fell in and I was without a bin for a week. Where would we put our rubbish if the trash cart ate our wheelie bins?" The discussion ensured and everyone started to refer to the trash receptacles as 'wheelie bins'. It was rather amusing. I smiled, feeling somewhat victorious. Not only had I manged to infiltrate the language, and reverse the American English to English English, but Ikea had recognised that chintz was acceptable! Oh joy! (Why do I feel so alone!) The meeting was thankfully short, and just before adjourning, I was rather embarrassed by a neighbour who said he could not let the meeting end without a 'Shout out to the English woman'. Apparently, I have brought the British Bake Off to our community and shared the culinary delights thereof with all! Apparently, I blushed! Again, the new faces showed confusion, as mine turned to chintz! The Englishwoman abroad is famous!
Our regular Saturday shopping trip started later than usual, and we were accompanied by Grant and his sister Emily. We did have fun, but by the time we reached Costco, I was exhausted. I had slept very little during the week, for reasons unknown (maybe it was the chintz) and the toll finally hit. I sat in a recliner (plain grey) that was on offer, and almost fell asleep. I was so comfortable that I found it hard to get up when the kids had completed their walk around!
We did not go out for breakfast on Sunday morning, as we were still too full following a trip to the buffet on Saturday evening. I am sure I will eat next week, but at the moment I could not face another morsel. Samantha is sending me pictures and messages regarding her very tidy, clean and organised house. At least the message shows it is her; I am still dubious!
As Sunday comes to a close, I am wondering what the next week will bring. Knowing that I was stylish before my time (Ikea told me so, not in so many words) and teaching my neighbours a new phrase has been so invigorating, I am not sure next week will not be able to compete with the excitement! (I still feel so alone!) Humour no doubt will continue, and self criticism with humour will be abundant. Sarcasm may show its face. Chintz, however, will probably take a while to take on. However, I can do no more than promise to attempt to entertain in ............ another story.
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