Oh, Ikea, Ikea.

It was a hectic day today - took the man to the airport, dropped something off at the accountants, went to IKEA, went to the yarn store, visited with some friends.
.
That wouldn't sound too extraordinary, but I had both girls with me. We were out & about for around six hours.
.
We went to Ikea, people. I like Ikea - I like their stuff. But I always feel the same way as I queue up for the checkout. Rage. Itching, burning, impatient rage.
.
I think that it might be my reaction to such an overwhelming amount of carefully calculated commercialism. Even at malls, there are places where nobody is trying to sell you anything.
.
Even the 50cent hotdogs only do so much to soothe the rage. Amoryn was quite good today, especially since EVERYONE coming out of Ikea had an ice cream cone. At least, once we established that "once we're done" meant "after we go through the entire store & get what we need & go through the checkout". So we did indeed get a cone for her.

.

And I found a happy place at Ikea - in the nursing room. Dim lights, Amoryn happy with an ice cream cone, Eleni happy nursing. It was very blissful.

.

(Sadly, the parking lot & the Deerfoot didn't do a lot to keep the happy place... but now I'm home again. And the girls are asleep.)