So, I'm in Nantes. Briefly. For 24 hours. Mostly to drop Boy1 off at his grandparents' house. And also to buy a few things at Ikea for the redone kitchen (a bar stool, a basket and a thing I have no name for), for my bed (a surmatelas, whatever that is because it's firm which I love but it's still lacking give, which I don't), and for the office (a wheeled multi-drawer thing to put the printer on and a chair cushion because the chair is this weird weave thing that hurts the back of my thighs if I'm not dressed. Yes, gasp, I occasionally blog in my panties. Go ahead, friends and family, try to get that image out of your head.) And a mirror for the bathroom. And a small table for the phone in the dining room to replace the wrought iron thing I've been using that really belongs outside with plants on it. And that's it. I didn't get anything that wasn't on my list. And as everyone knows, that's a big deal at Ikea.
But what I don't get is why half of France was at the Nantes Ikea this afternoon. It's summer. It wasn't raining. It was a nice, sunny day, if slightly chilly for August. There was no sale, there was no reason. And yet, it was packed. It was a nightmare. Everyone with their yellow bags and their pushycart things. Except for me. I had a blue Ikea bag that I bought (60 cents) the last time I went to Ikea. WHICH SOMEONE STOLE FROM ME TODAY. Can you imagine? Can you imagine shopping at Ikea, picking out furniture or a new kitchen or whatever and actually being lame enough to steal a 60 cent bag?
I assure you, I'm not upset about the bag. I was over it as soon as I realized it had been stolen. Because really, I have a lot of big bags and the Ikea one is actually too big and I just put the mirror and the cushion in the basket and all the other stuff came in those flat boxes (some assembly required). So they actually did me a favor, getting rid of that useless bag for me.