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chair hunt
Dec. 19th, 2008 12:39 amWent to Ikea after work today. It's conveniently close to a bus route, so it wasn't hard to get to (apart from some rain on either end).
Ikea is an Experience. I consider myself lucky to have made it out with nothing more than two rolls of wrapping paper, a new throw, the details of a chair I want to get (I was there on a Chair Hunt), and a set of covers for the chair which were seriously reduced in the just-begun-today sale and which I can always take back in the new year if I decide I don't like them.
They didn't actually have the specific chair I wanted in stock. It's a big squashy armchair with a nice straight back, suitable for sitting and knitting in. (I took my knitting along to check this and knitted a couple of rows. Don't laugh. If I'm going to be sitting and knitting in it for years, I want to make damn sure it's comfortable.) But they should have it in next week, and definitely in the new year. So I'll get it then.
It is nice to have found one I really want, rather than just trying to decide the best out of a set of mediocres. It is a bit more than I'd been thinking of spending, but then again, I had also made a condition with myself that if I came across something really good, I'd be prepared to pay a bit more for it.
The fact that I then had to wander through the rest of Ikea and didn't get home till past nine o'clock is, well, just one of those things.
---
A Ballade of Suicide
The gallows in my garden, people say,
Is new and neat and adequately tall;
I tie the noose on in a knowing way
As one that knots his necktie for a ball;
But just as all the neighbours -- on the wall --
Are drawing a long breath to shout "Hurray!"
The strangest whim has seized me . . . After all
I think I will not hang myself today.
Tomorrow is the time I get my pay --
My uncle's sword is hanging in the hall --
I see a little cloud all pink and grey --
Perhaps the Rector's mother will not call --
I fancy that I heard from Mr. Gall
That mushrooms could be cooked another way --
I never read the works of Juvenal --
I think I will not hang myself today.
The world will have another washing-day;
The decadents decay; the pedants pall;
And H.G. Wells has found that children play,
And Bernard Shaw discovered that they squall;
Rationalists are growing rational --
And through thick woods one finds a stream astray,
So secret that the very sky seems small --
I think I will not hang myself today.
ENVOI
Prince, I can hear the trumpet of Germinal,
The tumbrils toiling up the terrible way;
Even to-day your royal head may fall --
I think I will not hang myself today.
-- G.K. Chesterton
Ikea is an Experience. I consider myself lucky to have made it out with nothing more than two rolls of wrapping paper, a new throw, the details of a chair I want to get (I was there on a Chair Hunt), and a set of covers for the chair which were seriously reduced in the just-begun-today sale and which I can always take back in the new year if I decide I don't like them.
They didn't actually have the specific chair I wanted in stock. It's a big squashy armchair with a nice straight back, suitable for sitting and knitting in. (I took my knitting along to check this and knitted a couple of rows. Don't laugh. If I'm going to be sitting and knitting in it for years, I want to make damn sure it's comfortable.) But they should have it in next week, and definitely in the new year. So I'll get it then.
It is nice to have found one I really want, rather than just trying to decide the best out of a set of mediocres. It is a bit more than I'd been thinking of spending, but then again, I had also made a condition with myself that if I came across something really good, I'd be prepared to pay a bit more for it.
The fact that I then had to wander through the rest of Ikea and didn't get home till past nine o'clock is, well, just one of those things.
---
A Ballade of Suicide
The gallows in my garden, people say,
Is new and neat and adequately tall;
I tie the noose on in a knowing way
As one that knots his necktie for a ball;
But just as all the neighbours -- on the wall --
Are drawing a long breath to shout "Hurray!"
The strangest whim has seized me . . . After all
I think I will not hang myself today.
Tomorrow is the time I get my pay --
My uncle's sword is hanging in the hall --
I see a little cloud all pink and grey --
Perhaps the Rector's mother will not call --
I fancy that I heard from Mr. Gall
That mushrooms could be cooked another way --
I never read the works of Juvenal --
I think I will not hang myself today.
The world will have another washing-day;
The decadents decay; the pedants pall;
And H.G. Wells has found that children play,
And Bernard Shaw discovered that they squall;
Rationalists are growing rational --
And through thick woods one finds a stream astray,
So secret that the very sky seems small --
I think I will not hang myself today.
ENVOI
Prince, I can hear the trumpet of Germinal,
The tumbrils toiling up the terrible way;
Even to-day your royal head may fall --
I think I will not hang myself today.
-- G.K. Chesterton
