Christmas at Ikea

We’re either really loved by our families or really hated. For the sake of argument and intensive amounts of therapy, I’ll just say we’re really loved and that they don’t mind if we’re not with them on Christmas Day. I have enormous gratitude for this. Today, rather than flying or driving somewhere or shopping for others or brining a turkey, we were wandering the aisles of our local Ikea with a handful of other shoppers.

We had lunch at the cafe and browsed through near empty aisles imagining what we would own if we could.  Brian and walked through mock apartments like it was some deserted Disney Land. In the 375 square foot apartment we stood in front of the loft-style bed and the minute yet modern kitchen and commented on how it looked like apartments we had been to in New York City.

“It reminds me of my brother’s apartment,” I said.

“My friends live in one this size,” Brian said.

And we wandered on. In the quiet Ikea, we browsed like tourists in a museum. We looked at placards and read descriptions of illusionary kitchens and baths and living rooms.

“If there’s ever an apocalypse,” I said. “I’m coming to live in Ikea.”

“Ha.”

“No, I’m serious. It’s like that movie we saw last week with the last guy in Manhattan. He stayed in his apartment, but I would move in here. Every day I would use a different kitchen or sleep in a different bed.”

“Yeah, but none of this stuff works,” he said, as he pointed at a gleaming stainless steel sink.

“Oh yeah.” My dream was blown. Until I had an idea: there’s still water in the cafe. “But you could still eat at the restaurant!” I exclaimed. I continued my end-of-the-world fantasy in my head. If it all came to crashing end, I would come here.

The Ikea closed at seven and Brian and I drove him in light traffic with new pillows, a no-slip pad for a rug, christmas tree garland, and an agreement on a what the kitchen table will be once I get paid.

At home we ended the evening, still blessedly quietly, with last-minute gift wrapping and some prep for our Christmas dinner. Jackson helped with the Christmas wrapping by unrolling the paper, shortly before she set upon eating our tree.

That’s our night before Christmas, and I would like to thank our families for it. It’s the best Christmas present we get.