So I smash this 7 foot red circle rug from IKEA into my tiny Toyota car while the guy next to me loads his truck, he doesn't offer to help me, I go back and forth both sides of my car opening the door pushing the passenger seat down finally it fits and I close the door shut.
So I carry this 7 foot red circle rug from IKEA up two flights of stairs to my apartment it is really heavy but with only one resting stop I make it into my apartment, as I unwrap, cut and pull the plastic off it starts to unroll...
There is a black stain the size of a quarter on it.
You might not think that is very big and you might even think - get over yourself Anne - it is only a small stain - nothing can be perfect.
Well, I beg to differ. I want my rug to be perfect.
As I start to unroll this 7 foot red circle rug from IKEA all I can think is - I guess I have to wrap it up, carry it down, smash it in my car, and push it to IKEA returns - at least I know what it takes.
4 comments:
Anne, I bet the rug looks amazing...stain or not. Don't settle though.
See you Friday!
Nice rug, but that damn stain absolutely sucks!!! Good luck bringing it back.
Scott
My parents had that rug at one point... I like it... they returned it... Just wait until you try and get patio furniture in your little car... I'll have to share that story another time.
I hate IKEA stores so much. I remember my mom was in one in Chicago and my father sent me in to retrieve her for the next string of shopping malls and stores. I walked in the front door and was welcomed by a beautifly simple room with two escalators. I stepped on and rode it to the top. When I reached the top I was hit with what seemed like hundreds of mom's yelling at their kids, "don't touch that." "Shut up!" "Can't I have just five minutes to shop!?!" A flood of memories of my mother yelling at me when I was young became fresh in my mind. I turned to get out as soon as I could only to find that both of the escalators were going the same way. I was then forced to make my way through the depths of my childhood. I vowed that day never to return.
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