Ikea and Mean People

On my way to the cape today, I detoured to Ikea. I'm not really sure why. To be alone. To look at stuff. To think. Think I did.  I thought about life for the most part, and occasionally detour from that when I'd see something and think what a bummer it was I had no place to buy that thing and put it. I left there with two white oven mitts.  Huh? Well, I saw them and thought I could do some kind of cool iron-on with them.

I wandered from section to section, looking a the artwork and the couches and beds and cool chairs. I thought about how I could buy some new sheets for my bed, but none of them seemed quite right, and when I decided I wanted white, they only had off-white.

I did however, hear a few people speak really harshly to each other. So that was kind of awesome - nothing brightens your day like hearing people be unkind to one another. Like the Indian couple; the woman sitting on a couch with her daughter and the man standing in the walkway in front of them yelling in something that wasn't English. She would shout back in a thick accent, "Don't talk to me. Don't EVEN talk to me!"  It made me sad that this kid had to listen to that.

On the way out, the store weaves you through a section where you can pick-up a box with your unassembled furniture of choice. Again, I heard two people bickering. It seemed like a girl, her father and her mother. The girl was in her early to mid-twenties and trying to convince her dad that the box in front of her was the right one. He yelled back, "You have no F^%cking idea what your talking about!" I turned and made a "dude, you're a JERK" facial expression at them. I hope the wife saw me.  Now, granted, maybe the kids a jerk, but I'm guessing that if that's the case, she got it from dad.  I hope they got whatever the dad thought was the right item and then got all the way home before they realized he'd chosen the wrong box.

I hope they live in Maine.