Last night we wandered around in pursuit of IKEA, got lost, wandered back, and found it at last. Unfortunately, by that time we only had an hour before they closed. We wended our way through the maze of twisty little passages, all Swedish, and stood staring at bed frames.
With Carlota, this is always an experience.
"This one isn't bad..." I said, eyeing a dark wood slatted frame.
"Lots of spots for handcuffs," Carlota opined.
"Little more than I want to spend, though."
We kept looking, and located a solid wood piece that was rather nice, if very very Swedish.
"Nice design," I said.
"Not bad at all."
"No spots for handcuffs, though," I said, in an effort to be snide.
"Oh, don't worry. What you do is run two eyebolts into the sides here and here..."
I gazed at the ceiling and wondered vaguely at what point my innocence had packed its bags and headed for the coast. (Sadly, I could pinpoint the moment exactly. No, I'm not going to share. Some things are between a woman and her god, and I don't know that Ganesh wants to know either.)
"This one's nice. And cheap," I said, observing the cut rate frames.
"Unfinished pine? Feh. Gouges too easily."
"You know, we have some very odd shopping criteria."
"Hey, I'm just sayin'...."
In the end we abandoned Ikea, but had success with Craigslist. I just need a truck to haul the damn thing with...Carlota's working on it, but we'll see.