Things learned through trial and error, brought to you by IKEA
It just occurred to me again (I'm sure I've thought this before) that Ikea is nothing more than a gigantic Sims store. In fact, the two companies might even work together. I swear to you that the kid's whimsical bedroom furniture available at Ikea is identical in Sims II. And honestly, all of the furniture that you can buy for your avatar people in Simland can also be purchased at this gigantic, real life faux (?) Swiss shoppe.
Moving has made me feel like the new Sim on the block. I believe I have already made two gigantic social errors that would put me in the red. Moments after I arrived back from the grocery store, about five boys between the ages of 8-10 burst out of this one house to throw the football back and forth on the street. I thought maybe they were trying to impress me. Then I dropped a bag of groceries and we all watched as a can of pinto beans rolled out in the street, followed by a pint of Ben and Jerry's half-baked frozen yogurt (2 for $5). One of the kids threw the football and it landed on my doorstep. I picked the football up and said, Mine now! Trying to be funny, but they were startled. I threw it to one of the nearest boys and went inside, hearing them echo, Mine now! This may mean that I will be forever tormented or made fun of by a pack of fourth graders on my street. Just recently, I spotted a black cat crawling across the top of my back yard wall. I made kissing noises at it, prepared for it to run, but instead, it gave a tomcat meow and jumped into the back. I went outside to pet him. At first, I thought he was okay, because he's very furry, but then I realized that he was skinny and sad. He also had worms coming out of his butt. I petted him anyway. I considered giving him food, but did not. I can't ever ever do that, no matter how many stray cats I see or I will become the cat lady woman and never be able to sleep for the caterwauling. He clearly would've been happy to be let inside, but I came to my senses and fled into the interior of the house, praying he'd leave and not leap onto the screen door. So now I have to worry about being pursued by little boys and wormy cats. Welcome to the neighborhood.
I can't even begin to describe how dirty my hair is. It's forming into dreds even as I type. I finally hung the shower curtain and liner and so will take a shower before I go to bed, even though I have not yet cleaned the tub.
Had trouble falling asleep last night because I kept thinking of all the stuff left undone and being afraid that the bed would collapse. After about fifteen minutes of worrying specifically about the bed, I realized that it most likely would be fine. The stupid bed slats I spent an hour trying to get to lay flat aren't even necessary when you have a box spring. The bed is meant to be for someone who just has a mattress with no support, so I could easily take the slats off because the frame itself would sustain the box spring and mattress. This didn't even occur to me last night as I slaved away, imagining myself sleeping on the floor. This afternoon, I had another grueling Ikea encounter while attempting to put together the movable wardrobe thingy I have to have because of the lack of closet space. I got most of it done and then noticed that I had messed something up. I figured that out and then saw that I had two parts left-over. That's most likely not a good thing, but it seems to work fine. I had to remind myself that the instructions for putting together anything from Ikea are meant for mechanically challenged people such as me and so I could probably do it. At least sort of. At least for now.
I have unpacked every single box but those labeled "books." It's so much more satisfying to unpack than it is to pack. Unpacking is a little like Christmas; you unwrap this weirdly shaped object and are surprised, Oh, that ballerina thing! I love it! I am still in need of several essential objects such as anything resembling a table, but I'm going to attempt to be practical and go slow, not rush to put everything away and then have to redo it all again when I buy new pieces. I'm making a list.
Moving has made me feel like the new Sim on the block. I believe I have already made two gigantic social errors that would put me in the red. Moments after I arrived back from the grocery store, about five boys between the ages of 8-10 burst out of this one house to throw the football back and forth on the street. I thought maybe they were trying to impress me. Then I dropped a bag of groceries and we all watched as a can of pinto beans rolled out in the street, followed by a pint of Ben and Jerry's half-baked frozen yogurt (2 for $5). One of the kids threw the football and it landed on my doorstep. I picked the football up and said, Mine now! Trying to be funny, but they were startled. I threw it to one of the nearest boys and went inside, hearing them echo, Mine now! This may mean that I will be forever tormented or made fun of by a pack of fourth graders on my street. Just recently, I spotted a black cat crawling across the top of my back yard wall. I made kissing noises at it, prepared for it to run, but instead, it gave a tomcat meow and jumped into the back. I went outside to pet him. At first, I thought he was okay, because he's very furry, but then I realized that he was skinny and sad. He also had worms coming out of his butt. I petted him anyway. I considered giving him food, but did not. I can't ever ever do that, no matter how many stray cats I see or I will become the cat lady woman and never be able to sleep for the caterwauling. He clearly would've been happy to be let inside, but I came to my senses and fled into the interior of the house, praying he'd leave and not leap onto the screen door. So now I have to worry about being pursued by little boys and wormy cats. Welcome to the neighborhood.
I can't even begin to describe how dirty my hair is. It's forming into dreds even as I type. I finally hung the shower curtain and liner and so will take a shower before I go to bed, even though I have not yet cleaned the tub.
Had trouble falling asleep last night because I kept thinking of all the stuff left undone and being afraid that the bed would collapse. After about fifteen minutes of worrying specifically about the bed, I realized that it most likely would be fine. The stupid bed slats I spent an hour trying to get to lay flat aren't even necessary when you have a box spring. The bed is meant to be for someone who just has a mattress with no support, so I could easily take the slats off because the frame itself would sustain the box spring and mattress. This didn't even occur to me last night as I slaved away, imagining myself sleeping on the floor. This afternoon, I had another grueling Ikea encounter while attempting to put together the movable wardrobe thingy I have to have because of the lack of closet space. I got most of it done and then noticed that I had messed something up. I figured that out and then saw that I had two parts left-over. That's most likely not a good thing, but it seems to work fine. I had to remind myself that the instructions for putting together anything from Ikea are meant for mechanically challenged people such as me and so I could probably do it. At least sort of. At least for now.
I have unpacked every single box but those labeled "books." It's so much more satisfying to unpack than it is to pack. Unpacking is a little like Christmas; you unwrap this weirdly shaped object and are surprised, Oh, that ballerina thing! I love it! I am still in need of several essential objects such as anything resembling a table, but I'm going to attempt to be practical and go slow, not rush to put everything away and then have to redo it all again when I buy new pieces. I'm making a list.
Comments
In an ideal world, I would throw all those things away sight unseen since I haven't laid eyes on them in 18 months. But I won't. I'll move them again and have my own packed box Christmas.
Could this comment be longer?