As many of you know, I live at my mom’s place in the suburbs more than part time but less than full time.

The bed in my room is a futon. It’s at least two decades old and very lumpy. (I think one of us kids inherited it during our University days from a roommate who couldn’t take it home; we kept it and brought it home to the parents).

To increase the futon’s comfortable level I put a mattress topper on it, which helped reduce the lumpiness somewhat.

But it’s not a comfortable bed to sleep on. I learned to sleep on it anyway because I was – am – just so thrilled with having my own room with a door I can close that I didn’t let a little bit of discomfort bother me.

Much.

Initially.

My neck and back started acting up after a while, and a year later I suggested we get a proper bed for that room.

So much for getting used to a little discomfort.

“Just get a new mattress,” mom said and offered to pay for it. She suggested Ikea.

We made plans to go to one in a nearby town but never actually went.

Fast forward several weeks (months?) since we had the first mattress conversation. It was March break, the kids were off school but their dad was still working, and I was dog sitting Reya in the family house in the city (where I have no room with a door). About mid-week, mom sent me a text reminding me of the futon frame’s dimensions.

She knows there is an Ikea ten minutes from the city house, so I commissioned a kid to accompany me.

“Only if I get meatballs,” Sonja negotiated.

I grunted something noncommittal and we made plans to go on Thursday.

Thursday morning came and went.

Thursday lunch time came and went.

Are you familiar with teenager sleep schedules?

Ugh.

Rather than waking her up and subjecting myself to grumpiness, I walked, fed and settled the dogs down, then left the house on my own.

Ikea was busy, or so I thought when I saw the parking lot. I hesitated briefly, then went in anyway. Turned out the store wasn’t that busy, only the restaurant, which was filled with families of young children.

I remember those days, I thought to myself. Ikea food is cheap and kids love the store. I too used to come here with a friend and her two kids when ours were in elementary school.

Wandering around the store was easy because it was not overly busy which I appreciated. I looked at all the new room displays, daydreamed about my own space, and filled my head with things to wish, manifest and work for.

When I got to the mattress department I looked around for a bit, measured some of them, then tried one out.

I liked it.

The price was decent so I texted mom and waited for her confirmation.

That didn’t go through because when you’re in the bowels of this box store, no signal can penetrate. So, I marched myself to the restaurant which had a row of windows overlooking the parking lot. The signal worked there.

I texted mom and waited for a response. She must have been busy because it didn’t come right away. After a while, I went to the restroom, then ventured through the market place area, looked at things, took my time, and finally ended up in the warehouse where I checked if my mattress was even in stock. It was one of those self-serve ones, rolled into a big plastic bag.

Still waiting for mom to respond I walked to the check-out thinking I’ll go have a coffee in the restaurant while I decided what to do next. Should I get it now, since I’m here already?

I reached into my pockets to verify I had the keys of the bigger car (I couldn’t remember which one I drove) when I realized the key was missing.

I checked my bag; same result. No keys.

Blah

I went back to the restaurant but backwards, retracing my steps from the warehouse through the market place into the restroom, the restaurant and back to the mattress department.

I realized along the way the keys probably fell out of my jacket pocket when I tried out the mattress I wanted to buy…

My mind went into overdrive as I debated internally:

Should I call a kid to walk the backup key to me? I could meet them halfway… shouldn’t take more than 25 minutes. I’d still have to find the original key though. Would the kids be up? What time was it now? Why do these things happen to me? And how much negotiating complaining would there be if by some miracle a kid answered their phone? Why didn’t I bring the backup key? I always bring the backup key…but I still need the original key found…

Then I practiced what I should say to the guy in the mattress department. And to the people in the Lost and Found. Is there a Lost and Found at Ikea? I didn’t know but suspected and prepared myself to spend the next hour in a frenzy.

When I got to the mattress department I saw the guy at the computer terminal with a customer. The customer walked away the moment I got there which prevented me having to interrupt them.

“Hi, did someone find some car keys in this area?” I asked him.

Sure enough, the guy had my keys. Heart attack and grumpy teenagers averted. 😎

Once again the planets aligned for me. So thankful.

I decided at that time that I did not want a coffee but rather get the hell out of this store. Mom meanwhile texted me back that she approved of the mattress choice and price, so off I went back to the warehouse and got myself one of those flat bed tolleys.

My next issue was at the self-checkout. The card I wanted to use didn’t work (why why why) (I think I put it in backwards what with being all discombobulated), the supervisor self-checkout dude aborted the process on the screen and I re-scanned my mattress and used the family card to pay for the damn thing. I’ll have to remember to transfer the money later…

I had to take the elevator down to the covered parking lot (it was sorta kinda raining when I got there) and maneuver the flat bed trolley without bumping into parked cars. I held my keys in my hand the whole time, worried I’d lose them again.

Finally I got to the car, managed to put the mattress roll in without having to put the back seat down, then drove home relieved I now had a new mattress to place on my futon.

So there you have it. Another glimpse into the ridiculous life I lead here in the Greater Toronto Area. Thank you for stopping by my blog.