The Swedish, Shoulders, and Suds

So yesterday after a relaxing meal at Souplantation (if you can call weaving around 40 people every time you want another piece of that pizza bread "relaxing"), Aaron and I decided to caravan to Ikea with my parents, Jeniece, Sam (Jeniece's boyfriend), and Haley. (My brothers were smart enough to make other plans). As Aaron and I flew down the 405 we made a list of the things we need in our new apartment: two nightstands, two end tables for the living room, some art... ("and some more pillows", I added silently. I couldn't tell Aaron that. He thinks I have "a problem" with buying pillows obsessively. Just because we already have eight on the couch).
Turned out that 19,000 other people also decided to high-tail it to the Costa Mesa Ikea yesterday afternoon. I'm surprised we didn't hit a bunny or a coyote on the way to our parking spot, it was so far out there. We finally made it inside, and found our way to the little-tables-section. Where we figured out together without hardly any fighting at all that our living room isn't big enough for two end tables with our (only possible) couch configuration. Then, how about a coffee table, my dear sweet Aaron? Well, I learned yesterday that Aaron hates coffee tables just about as much as I like pillows. So if you ever come over to our apartment, BYOCT. Thanks!
Then we found the nightstands. And we realized that our bed is way too tall for Ikea's nightstands. But all was not lost, because in the bedroom furniture section, Aaron saw THE MIRROR. When I saw the look on his face, I knew that our trip to Ikea was not in vain. It was a look something like the look he had when we went to Target and he spotted this clock that was the size of Donald Trump's ego. Probably the reaction was similar, because the mirror is also HUGE. It's like the size of a Baby Beluga. So we bought the mirror (and a couple of pillows - a deal I struck b/c he wouldn't let me buy a coffee table) and headed for the exit - until my stomach started to hurt because I thought of the size of my car in relation to the size of the mirror. "Umm, I don't think this will fit in my car", I suggest. "We're gonna have to ask my parents to take it." We both are starting to feel panicky. This is because his shoulder is busted, he's on Vicodin and needs to rest, and I know that waiting for my parents and sisters to "finish up" at Ikea will maybe take until next Martin Luther King Day. And no, my dad can't come down to load the mirror with us, because my mom thinks they'll finish up quick.
Two dry cinnamon rolls, a nap, and an hour and a half later, my parents found us at the cafe. Oh, the rejoicing. (P.S. You can get extra icing on your cinnamon roll at Ikea for 25 cents. I found this out too late, but now you know.)We got rid of the darn mirror and decided against cooking dinner, and grabbed some In-N-Out to go. Back at the cozy apartment, we remember that we are both completely out of clean undergarments, so why don't we start a couple of loads in the community laundry room before we eat? Sure, great idea. Until Amanda locks us out of the apartment. Without car keys, even. And with all of our windows locked. Aaron on Vicodin couldn't have pulled it off better. Happily, our apartment manager's husband was home and sympathetic, so we were only out in the sub-zero weather for fifteen minutes. And the In-N-Out wasn't even too cold. If the same thing ever happens to you, I will let you know that In-N-Out fries microwave a lot better that McDonald's fries do. And also, it works a lot better to push the button for the dryer that your clothes are actually in, as opposed to not that button.
Oh, and the pillows look AWESOME.