Ikea and other travails

Today we went to Ikea again; I’ve been so frequently that I am beginning to think I recognise people there. I’m sure I’m not; it’s just under the harsh lighting everyone looks the same surrounded by flat pack Scandinavian furniture. We bought a lamp for our living room, some storage boxes and a shelving unit that was much too big to fit into a taxi, so after my wife fled with the girls, I hired a very slightly larger car where the seats would fold down, and shortly afterwards got home.

The afternoon was the usual thrill of screwing things together with Allen keys, and then hitting things with hammers. The most satisfying part about hitting things with hammers is when your daughter, who has spent half the weekend banging a drum as loud as she can, comes to see what the noise is about because she is worried for you.

Apart from assembling furniture, I remember very little of the day. Oh, except for when I went to the office to pick up my laptop charger and my scooter. I bought my scooter second hand a few weeks ago, and it’s not very good; it flexes under my weight, despite allegedly being able to cope with up to 100kg of person, the brakes are a death trap, the bearing around the steering column is suspiciously loose, and… tonight’s special treat, the handlebars began to swivel, so they’re now at 45° to the direction the wheel is pointing in, rather than the normal perpendicularity one would expect.

This presents me with a dilemma. Do I take the loss, or sell this death trap on to the next mug?

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