Ikea Rat Race

In case anyone was wondering what it feels like to be a lab rat, I imagine in to be something like Ikea on a Saturday.

A few weeks ago, I got my new apartment. Yes, I know there should have been an update right away and yes, I have already heard it several times from my mother, who will no doubt comment again. I've been busy. Not busy like I have too much work on my plate and I can't keep up, but too busy not being busy. I've been wandering my neighbourhood and spending time with someone I had missed very much before coming back.

So anyway, back to being a lab rat. I got my apartment, which was furnished, but needed some love to make it mine. And some sheets. And a blanket. And some dishes. So I got up early on a Saturday planning to beat the crowds, and headed to Ikea. Well, apparently Ikea doesn't open before 10 on the weekend, so I had a light breakfast and waited until the floors were open.

I didn't NEED to walk the whole showroom floor, but I wanted to get some ideas about what to do about storage in the bathroom. There is no place to put anything besides the top of the sink, which isn't a counter, its just the sink. So I walked the whole showroom. Wow.

For those of you who know me and my issues, I have to be very focused in those situations, otherwise I end up coming home with much, much more than I need. So I had my notebook with my list of needed items, and my cell phone with the calculator and a pencil for writing down everything.. and I mean everything. Anything that went in my bag got written down, including the price. I wanted to know exactly how much I was going to be spending, and not go over budget. So I walked around. By 10:30 the place was packed and people were everywhere. It was hard not to bump into someone. I found myself looking at dining room chairs at one point and wondered how I even got there and why I was looking at them. I'll probably never know. Except that I want to equate it to what Cinnabon does in malls: they pump the smell of their delicious cinnamon goodness into the mall and you hardly know what happened until you're licking your fingers and looking for a napkin to wipe the rest of the sticky mess off your fingers. Yes, that is what Ikea does with fancy lighting and lovely vases. They make you forget what you came there for in the first place!

By the time I got to the part of the store I actually NEEDED to be in, it was almost noon. Where did the time go??

Also by this time, I am pretty sure the building was over capacity and there was not space to even breathe. But on I soldiered, around the store, to find the many items still left on my list. Still checking my list every thirty seconds and writing everything down, I maneuvered myself and my cart around the hordes of people. This is the part that I equate to being a lab rat. You must find the rug and get it into your cart and get yourself, the rug and the cart safely out of the rug area before someone else runs you down. But make sure its the right rug, not just any one will do. Yes, that is a real thing.

I ended up leaving the rug area without one for my room. I got one for the back door, and one for the bathroom, but there were so many people and I was all by myself... too much stress for such little gain. I can wear flip flops in my room a little longer.

Blankets was another issue. Since I have spare rooms and would like to be able to rent them, I bought bare minimum essentials for them: a pillow, mattress cover and blanket for each. The bedding for each of those came to about 36 euros a piece, which was pretty good, I thought! Then came time to look for things for MY bed. They didn't have the blanket I wanted in a size big enough for my bed. Wtf. So instead of panicking, I decided that the only impulse buy that I was giving myself of the day (which I had already picked up and was a lovely fleecy grey blanket) was actually not an impulse buy after all- it was exactly what I needed. I bought a blanket that wouldn't be quite warm enough for the winter, and the fleecy blanket to go on top! THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is how you justify your choices! (The only blankets big enough for my bed were 85+euros. The blanket I bought was 25 and the grey blanket was 10.. hell ya!)

By the time I finished my rat race, I spent 268 euros and had almost everything on my list. I got a ride home in a cab around 2pm and started the task of cleaning the place from top to bottom and setting everything up.

Now it is almost perfect, my bed is comfy and warm and I love my new apartment!

The Day I Didn't Die

So in my last post, I wrote that I was going running in the mountains, and that I might die.

I didn't.

Wanted to make sure I wasn't dead, or wouldn't die over night after such an experience, so I waited until now to update again.

I didn't die.

I'm supposed to go again next weekend. This could be interesting. I might die.

Death by Running

Okay, so for those of you who wanted another update, this may be my last.

I am going running today in the mountains with a woman I met in the gym.

God help me.

On the plus side, at least the scenery will be worth it!

*i'llthinkofrue*

Strangers on a Train... in the Worst Way Possible

By the title of this blog, you can probably guess what kind of day I've had...

I will not tell you about all of them, but I will tell you about the one that made me want to press up against a woman more than I've ever wanted to before in life.. ever. *

 It was rush hour (which for those of you who don't know, lasts from 3:30-8pm here in Barcelona, much like Toronto). Hundreds of people, cramming themselves into steel tubes that will rocket them to some point in the city that is closer to where they live. Man I miss cars. Also, by "rocket" I clearly mean "move at a pace faster than you can walk, but not so fast that you blink and its over".

 So here we all are, ten of us trying to maneuver our bodies onto the already full train in order to get to our destination faster, and lets face it, even if we waited for the next one, there would still be too many people to be able to get a breath of air, so we might as well just get on and deal with it. For anyone who is claustrophobic, I imagine this experience would be the thing that makes you lose your shit and kill people- the train would emerge from the tunnel internally covered in blood and there you would be, standing up on the seat and clinging to the handrails, shaking with cowardly rage over the bodies of the fifty-seven people you just destroyed. Yup, there is that many people on the train.

 Now, no matter how many people can squeeze themselves onto the train, it is still customary to try not to touch the person next to you. This is not the telephone booth that you tried to fit 20 people into as a youth, you still have to have some decency in tact. So I am between someone's arm in front of me, the door behind, a woman to my right (the one I would have spooned if it were in any way appropriate) and a gross old man.

 To be honest, he was probably grosser because of his actions, and I likely would not have even noticed him if not for his actions, but still gross none-the-less. When the train gets going, much like in any other moving vehicle, bodies sway. Well, the train started moving and the sway would have had me leaning towards this man, but because of my incredible balance and my discomfort with touching strangers, I have mastered the art of train surfing to the point of barely moving when the vehicle starts, if I so choose. Well, he moved. And then he righted himself, big belly and all right into my side. And there he stayed, for the duration of the trip to the next stop. Another man a few feet away from me must have noticed my face because he gave me the "aw man, I'm sorry for you" look. Thanks random stranger, for noticing in my unquantifiable displeasure.

 Upon the doors opening at the next station to let people off and on, I had, as any normal person would, assumed that he would kindly remove himself from his position pressed up against me. This is something he did not do. The doors closed again with the same number of people crammed into our space as had been before, though this time there were new people added to the starting-to-sweat hell that is this moment. The train moved again, and again the man swayed slightly, though this time his stomach was never not-touching me, and when he righted himself, somehow his (to quote Sheldon) "bathing suit parts" ended up against my thigh. UMMM!!

 It was in this moment that I started to inwardly panic. If not for the two or three layers of clothing between our skin, this old man would be succeeding in making his all dreams come true: once again rubbing up against a hot, young blonde in public with his... *shudders*. I can't even finish that sentence.

 This is my nightmare.

 Undeniably.

 Strangers being close in an elevator for a few moments is one thing, and anyone who has ever worked in the Scotia Plaza in Toronto can appreciate that when there are only 1-5 people in the elevator at five minutes to nine, you wish it were socially congruous to close the doors on the four other people running towards the gaping portal, citing it as your way of trying to prolong their freedom from "the man". Of course, that is not deemed acceptable behaviour and so when those people cram themselves in, you count your lucky stars, literally, because hopefully you have enough that by the time you've counted them, at least someone has gotten off the elevator. Also, in downtown corporate Toronto, daily showers and deodorant are an important social protocol and being that it is not yet 9am, everyone still smells fresh.

 But at rush hour in a major city on one of the most used lines in the metro system, all hope is lost as the closing doors trap you in this vast yet confined space with frisky strangers at the end of their workday. I feel bad for some of these people. They may have thought that they could skip the shower this morning and get by Italian style with deodorant and body spray, and that the tuna fish sandwich they had for lunch with a wine chaser would end up leaving their breath smelling minty fresh.

 Dear Girl-beside-me-I'd-like-to-spoon,

Your breath doesn't smell good, but I'd still like to get to know you better than this leaner with a big belly and an appetite for girls in tight spaces.

Sincerely,

Notice-I'm-not-breathing-and-move-over

 I'm still having internal debates over whether to elbow this man so hard that he keels over, or continue holding my breath and enduring this most awful commute when the announcement rings through the train: "El proximo estacion: Verdeguer". Oh thank God there are only a few more moments of this unimaginable agony. Count backwards from 10: 10, 9, 8,- why is he staring at me?!- 7,6,- I can't even handle this anymore- 5, 4, 3, - oh no the train is slowing, he's leaning again only this time it's into me more than on purpose!- 2, 1 - OPEN YOU DAMN DOORS! OPEN!!!

 The doors slide open and he remains exactly where his is. Thankfully, enough people are moving out of the train that by the time new people can come in, I have moved to the opposite side of the train. Yes, my stop is next. And yes, I would rather fight my way past all of these people than spend another second racing through a long dark tunnel wishing I could melt into a fruit fly and die in the next 4.5 seconds.

 The man looked at me as the doors shut, as if to say "we were having a moment and you just... left?!" No sir, you were having a moment and I was being accosted by a stranger on a train.

 Can I have my virginity back?



*Yes MC, even more than you...even more.

Being Fabulous

Sometimes I remind myself how awesome I am.



Time for another cafe con leche ;)

Letter to Sidewalk Users

To the people in Spain who don't know how to share a sidewalk,

I may be Canadian, but I will still run you down if you're in my way.

Sincerely,

People who walk faster than a snail's pace.

uumm... ?

All day yesterday, people kept saying to me "I keep thinking today is Thursday" and I'll let you know Thursday or Friday if you have the job" and "We'll talk on Thursday"...

Yesterday was Thursday. End story.