This week I’ve spent most of my time in unproductive mode. I am sick – again – the two rounds of antibiotics have seemingly had no affect on health or energy levels and at the start of the week the good ol’ mucous factory started up again.
This time, there must have been a new employee charged with the task of running a feather duster over my throat with the express purpose of making me cough repeatedly. That, coupled with the last remnants of J’s conjunctivitus and the last week of bad news, I just wanted to lie low – horizontally if possibly – until things started looking up again. Or until I was forced out of the house in search of comfort food or toilet paper.
Then, yesterday it appeared. Like sunshine on a rainy day. The Ikea Catalogue stuffed into my letterbox. The fact that there were cheques of a hefty nature from the lovely folks at the Australian Taxation Office also stuffed in there was suddenly secondary. I had a one track mind – Ikea Catalogue!
The boy was asleep, I hastily despatched a plan. Kettle on. Coffee made. Couch pillows plumped. Just me, Ikea Catalogue and a coffee. ‘If only I had some chocolate’. The thought was brief, as this was pretty close to perfection.
One of the first things that caught my eye was the KIVIK Chaise Lounge – mmmm comfy. The description tells me it has a layer of memory foam that ‘hugs your body for extra comfort and invites sprawling’. Sprawling! I love sprawling. I start to mentally rearrange the furniture in our very compact living room to accommodate said chaise.
From there it’s all downhill. From cheap little handy knicknacks to full-blown home-office setups, I’m salivating at the thought of my highly organised, yet stylish domestic nirvana.
And that’s before I get to the kids section. Suddenly, J requires all manner of cute storage solutions not to mention a mini kitchen, a retro looking toddle truck and a 13-piece farmhouse and animal set.
How much were those cheques from the ATO again?
Lucky for me, Ikea doesn’t have online shopping and I have to get my arse out of the house, on the M3 and brave the labyrinth that is Ikea Logan to get said goods.
‘Mmmm, Swedish meatballs’, drools my taste buds as I get to to back pages. ‘Oooh, $3.95,’ exclaims my inner cheap skate.
Not today. Or this week. But soon. Until then, I will happily pour over the pages, measure things with tape measures and dream.