There Must Be Something Wrong with Me

On Thursday, I asked M if I could shock him.

“I really want to go to Ikea this weekend.”

Needless to say, I was successful.

I’m not a shopper. I get in, get what I need, and get out. I prefer grocery shopping by myself, I have to be dragged along for Black Friday shopping, etc. I also don’t pay retail for much (this is a very good thing). So for me, asking to go to Ikea is a Really Big Deal.

My husband is very much a shopper. He loves to browse. It took me two years to break him of his habit of walking through every. single. aisle. when we went to Costco. He actually enjoys wandering around the mall from time to time, just looking at what they have. I cringe at the very thought.

All I wanted to do was pick up something to organize my cloth diaper stash in the boys’ room. We came home with a rocking toy thing for Butter, chalk for him to use on his chalkboard paint wall, cups for him, and a new set of dishes for us. Oh, and the thing I wanted to get in the first place.

By the way, that chalkboard wall? Was probably a very bad idea.

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