Mrs Commish and I are coming up on 17 years of blissful marriage.
I don’t know how it happened. All I know is a lot of people lost money on how long we’d stay together.
So last week we had an opportunity to get away for a couple of nights without kids.
Bridget was at an overnight camp and the Wife’s parents offered to take the boys up to their house so we could get away.
So off we went. Into Boston for two whole nights.
The first night we had dinner, walked around, did some shopping, and ahem, went to sleep.
The next morning, we woke up feeling ambitious so we hit the gym, grabbed a quick bite for breakfast, and then we went to IKEA.
Yeah. It appears that even though we were sans kids, we still felt the need to run down to Stoughton so we could look at some bedroom furniture for the little ball of fire known as Tyler.
(He’s moving into his own room this year b/c older brother Aidan is heading to Middle School. earlier bus schedule, etc…) I know, T.M.I.
Did it have to be done when the kids were gone? No.
Do I enjoy shopping for furniture in a place like IKEA? Hell No.
Did the wife talk me into doing it somehow? Hell yes.
So off we went. Our game plan was simple. Get down there quick and sprint through the place taking pictures of the items we like. In and out in an hour.
We were like Jake and Ellwood.
As I drove down Route 95, I became Jake Blues. The wife was riding shotgun in the blues mobile, telling me on more than one occasion to slow down. To which I’d respond:
“Honey, it’s a hundred and six miles to Chicago. We got a full tank of gas, a half a pack of cigarettes, it’s dark, and we’re wearing sunglasses”
(Now she was wondering how we’ve been married for 17 years)
And then we arrived at IKEA, and I was transformed into Clark W Griswold.
The number of people pouring into the parking garage was staggering. It reminded us of when you pull into Walt Disney World and everyone’s in huge rush to get inside before the long lines form at the cool rides.
But the thing is, you’re not at an amusement park. You’re at a wherehouse full of crap, that you can’t get out of until you walk through the entire maze they’ve built.
Everything’s really cheap (I mean, affordable) so when you walk in you’re transformed into Rodney Dangerfield.
“Yo Wang, it’s a parking lot. I’ll take two of those, give me six of those”
But that wears off in a few minutes, and then you realize you’re on a death march.
And by the time you get to the end, you’re Jake Blues again.
So there you have it.
Jake Blues, Clark W Griswold, Rodney Dangerfield, and full circle to Jake Blues again.
You know what, I actually highly recommend a trip to IKEA.