Ikea - god help me.

So imagine, if you will, heading off to hand in part of your application to do a Masters, and this happens to be at a place you once worked.  Imagine also that you bump into old workmates and see familiar faces. Imagine as you leave you glance at yourself in the reflective window and think, "Christ, who is that over-weight woman? She's got her top on inside out."

Yes. That was how my day started.

Of course, I didn't take the hint and headed on to Ikea with hubby and Miss Nearly Four in tow. NINE DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS.  Look, like that perm I got for my Year 10 formal, It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time.

There was a lot of screaming. Not only were meatballs were thrown in the cafeteria, they were also spat. There was fake choking. Fluffy toys were ripped apart with teeth AND THEN we chose to go through the self-service aisle at the end of the whole horrible experience.

Which was mostly fine.

Apart from the woman who queue jumped in front of me pretending she couldn't see me over the gigantic mattress she was wiping out children, harried employees and furniture displays with. The HAG do you realise I stood there fantasising about strangling you with my bare hands - and I was NOT the only one I reckon.   And the security guard who chose to lecture us on the dangers of allowing children to ride on top of trolleys - I mean what sane person stops people who have just made it through the whole Ikea experience and are heading home to discover exactly which bits have not been included in their cardboard box of irritation, and lectures them?

Incidentally Miss Nearly Four has inherited the ape monkey genes from her father and its almost impossible to dislodge from anything unless she chooses to be dislodged.

The whole Ikea thing took 90minutes including the cafeteria tantrum - it felt like SO much longer.

Tomorrow I am going to finish my Christmas shopping if it kills me, or until I kill someone.  My advice is to avoid Hornsby Mall tomorrow. It could get messy.

:)