Happy Birthday, Mr. President

This was my first President’s Day holiday since I graduated from college in 2007. I kind of knew how bad I had it at my last job but now that I’m living with freedom it’s a whole new world. (Now if only we got MLK Day.)

Taking advantage of the extra day I took my inaugural trip to Ikea. I had heard only good things about the Swedish furniture store and wanted to go for the experience alone. There are plenty of things I could use in my home but I didn’t go with a list or any sort of expectations of bringing home a certain item.

The place is ridiculous. It is massively large and easy to get lost. The car garage is a little easier to navigate but let me repeat, they have a parking garage (read: HUGE). There is one floor with all the different displays (bedrooms, bathrooms, living rooms, family rooms, dining rooms, kitchens, offices, baby rooms) as well as a cafeteria-style restaurant. On another floor are all the products where you actually pick them up and purchase them. The biggest issue with the store besides the size (I don’t know if you heard but it’s large. Finding things can be difficult.) is that you can’t just toss something in your cart. For example, we saw a magazine rack type thing in one of the displays and I thought I could use something like that. But instead of being able to grab it you have to read the tag on it and jot down the necessary information: the name, description and location. Then you have to go downstairs and try to find it. What makes this even harder is that the location information makes no sense once you get down there. Nothing is labeled as H1 or F3 so you spend half your time trying to figure out if your item should be in section Home Decorations or Home Furnishings. What’s the difference?!

Besides that it was a fun time. There were quite a few more people than (500) Days of Summer led us to believe and a hell of a lot of kids. Why, parents? It isn’t fun for them. Or anyone else for that matter.

We needed to decompress afterwards but the Babbler wanted to buy some new running sneakers. She’s running a 10 miler in May. We went to this specialty store in Cambridge and I’m convinced the employees could be podiatrists. Or that they have foot fetishes. Maybe both.

The girl asked Brig to take off her shoes and roll her pant legs up. Once, twice, a few more times, need to see a little more. Then she asks her to walk down to the register so she can observe her gait. "Wait, you walked too fast, I’m going to need to see that again." Then she wows us with her foot knowledge and finds Brig the perfect pair of sneaks. (All the while never allowing the pant legs to be rolled back down.)

To celebrate our productive day Brig parked illegally and I ran into the liquor store and picked up some Bud Light Limes. We got drunk watching Bad Teacher. It wasn’t terrible but it definitely confirmed why neither of us wanted to see it in theaters. But just like Cameron Diaz's character, we agree that the best part of working is the holidays.