We live in house. Downstairs we have a kitchen, a small bathroom, living room with dining room (separated only through a halfwall so they appear as almost one unit), a conservatory and one bed room, which before was the twins room.
Upstairs we had one bigger bedroom where my husband, Lucy and I were sleeping. Next to that a small room that served as a changing room, where our wardrobe was placed, a bathroom and a study.
First my husband and I had to pack all our clothes into suitcases and boxes and our son got the small former changing room as his new pirate cave. Then we had to all 3 of us move out of the upstairs bedroom and that became the new girls' room. Then my husband and I moved into the former twins room. Then we collapsed.
And after alltogether almost 6 weeks of renovations in various stages of chaos we even decided to get a new cupboard for the kitchen. Despite sore backs and being sick of the mess, we are still not finished. Ian and I are currently sleeping in a room that still has a cheery animals-at-the-zoo border und a glow-in-the-dark-starry wallpaper. But for now I am weary. Even the upstairs rooms still need little things to do here or there like new curtains, a new lamp etc
One of the side effects of all this was that I have been visiting IKEA at a weekly basis. As I did - again - today. If you are feeling sick at the sight of Köttbullar, it's a sure sign, that you have been at IKEA too often.
IKEA is a phenomenom. It attracts people of all age groups, all professions and all kind of mental states. Today I was parked next to big van painted in matt black with the skull and crossbones, top-down crosses and Antichrist paroles included. On the back there was a statement, that the van was the means of transport of ... the big city rebels. ... Hmh? Should satanistic rebels be shopping at IKEA? Don't they have an image to keep up? Like making their own furniture out of real bones and steel or sleeping in used coffins? I'm kinda disappointed. Punks, Goths and all other kind of rebels should live in style. Like this:
I remember that my friend used to live in a flat over a goth-punk couple and she was immensely amused by their all-black washing hanging out in the sun to dry, and their very normal and un-gothic, un-punky behaviour including lovers-quarrels about who's turn it was doing the dishes. They even complained occasionally that she should please turn her music down. Seems sometimes what's inside is not what the outside suggests. Satanists buy the striped Ektorp-Couch at IKEA and Goths can be unmasked as wish-we-were-Goths. The real punk was probably my friend, whom people who did not know better thought normal or possibly even boring.
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