when i woke up this morning i decided that instead of cleaning my apartment, i’d go buy some more junk to put into the already messy, cluttered hellhole i call home.
so i called up sister #4 and asked her if she’d like to accompany me to IKEA. it was a good time. she got a coffee table, i got the bookcase i wanted and some other junk i didn’t need. we had a good parking spot, they opened a checkout just as we were walking up. life was good.
i even managed to lug all 72 7/8 inches and 938 pounds of it into the apartement all by myself. then, i was shoving peg B into circle C just as the pictogram said and things were still going well, until i had to insert hole D back on peg b. that’s when i started to say fuck quite a bit, because i couldn’t managed to get the motherfucking holes to line up with the pegs. then when i was just about to send the whole thing careening across the room, the big, heavy top of the bookcase fell and landed on my head.
it was almost flintstonesesque. i could feel the lump growing within minutes. then i started to cry. because what else does one do? i cried for a good long time.
then i left. i had to leave the house or i was going to destroy something. so instead i flew down the highway at a dangerous pace screaming mike doughty songs all along the way. now my livingroom is in shambles, the bookcase is about half put together. and i can’t even walk into the room without getting angry.
i’m hoping the head trauma will cause some sort of short-term memory loss and by the time i wake up tomorrow, i’ll have forgotten how angry i was.