Tired of the ever drudging task of flipping and folding the futon, I stumbled upon an idea tucked away in my mind: raise it up. Not merely an innocent innuendo, our hero set out with this mighty mantra to right wrongs and up downs. Yet awaiting at the end of my journey lay a twisting, turning labyrinth of doom--a vortex of furniture and Scandinavia that sucked in all who ventured near! Now, trapped within this fortress of wall hangings and secrets, what will our hero do? How will he survive with his wallet intact? Only through strong will and perseverance will the truth be made clear.
First off, I apologize for the lack of pictures (a fact that will continue for the present), but oh my dear goodness gracious have I had a busy week and weekend. My first week back to work was a bit more hectic than usual, and definitely more hectic than I was hoping for. However, aside from having more interviews in one day than I have in most months (which was awesome, by the way), a student randomly blurting out, "is cauliflower in the broccoli family?" (answer: think of lions and tigers...and yes, there is a liger variant), and an entire class of seven year olds deciding that I am Harry Potter, there's really not much to say about work.
Outside of work, however, quite a bit happened this weekend. Specifically, yesterday happened, which is why my arms are so sore today. I went to IKEA, which is about an hour and a half away by train. Now, why did I go to IKEA? The simple answer was that I wanted an adventure, and I thought there might be something there that would make my life easier. The more complicated answer has to do with the fact that I sleep on a futon [foo-tone, not foo-tawn]. In Japan--and this is so ingrained into many people here that they often forget to mention it to foreigners--the morning ritual consists of waking up, getting out of the futon, and then folding up and putting away the futon...and all of the associated bedding. That part is not a terrible hassle, and is really just like making the bed in the morning back in the states. I'm fine with that...however, with that fact comes the flipping flip side of having to put the entire thing back together again before you go to bed at night. Let me tell you, dear reader, that making my own dinner every night can be hard enough some times, much less putting my bed back together. However, the reason for doing so is actually quite good. Japan is a reasonably humid place, and as such moisture tends to condense in small places, such as underneath the futon. Add additional body heat, and the resulting area is a breeding ground for black mold that has ruined many a foreigners' bedding and floor. Don't get me wrong, I have gotten lazy before and left my futon out in the morning, but if I do it for a few days then I inevitably find a gleaming wet patch underneath when I fold it up the next day.
So, what does this have to do with IKEA? Well, the issue happens to be that the futon is resting on the ground, and my thought is that if I can get the futon off of the ground and supported by some slats, then the resulting space should be enough to air out the futon during the day so that I don't have to unfold the thing at night. And if you're curious, the look that I tend to get from Japanese people when I mention this is a bit of curiosity and bemusement, so we'll see what happens.
Back to IKEA, after getting lost a few times--directions were not my thing that day--my friend and I found our way to IKEA, and the first thing that we saw was a line. That should have been a hint about what was to come, which was a massive sea of familial humanity; and when I say familial, I mean that in a literal sense. I saw parents carrying toddlers trailed by older children who constantly got in the way due to being glued to their 3DSs. All were in search of new furniture, all had zero sense of personal space, and all were bargain hunting. IKEA [ee-kay-uh over here] was in the middle of their New Years sale. After a little hunting, and looking at several bed frames which were effectively too tall for my loft, I found exactly what I was looking for, for about half off of the size that I wanted. Though it took us longer than we wanted, we eventually managed to push ourselves through the crowd--the kind of crowd that can only form this close to a city the size of Tokyo--to get to the exit. I will also say here that I managed to explain to the cashier lady not only that we were paying separately, but which items we each had. It was glorious.
Now came the hard part: getting my purchases (everything that I had been looking for plus a potted plant) home. I considered shipping them, but on the strong advice of my friend, I decided to cart it all home. After all, the slats only weighed 21lbs and were a good foot taller than me, while the shelving unit was 33lbs and about a foot shorter than me. At the time, carrying home a total of 54lbs between two packages that average my height seemed a good idea. For comparison, I'm currently--fully clothed and having just ate--a little over 115lbs. As I said, my arms are a little sore today, though not so much at rest. But using them for anything at all--even typing--and I can feel a little bit of the (I think) lactic acid helping cause micro-breaks in the muscle groups and helping them to grow.
Between the two of us, we managed to get my stuff home in one piece. My friends stuff, however, wasn't quite as lucky. I just want to say that I was really careful, and I watched everything like a hawk, but somehow the corner of his mirror--where all of the cardboard was--ended up chipped. Whether it came like that, it broke in my care or his, or it would have been fine had we not been carrying my stuff is a moot (this word is a contronym--it's own opposite--in spoken English, so I don't give a darn what the dictionary says) point. The fact is that the mirror got broken, and nothing is going to change that fact.
Now, to say that we got everything to my apartment with just the two of us would be a lie for a couple of reasons. For one, my friend got off at his station, which happened to be a few before mine, so I was on my own for a bit--he offered to help, but I turned it down. For another, to quote a certain Blanche in a very famous play, "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers" (Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire). Never mind the man struggling between carrying a gigantic box and en enormous flower pot with a plant inside, oh no, it seemed as though wherever we went, someone wanted to help the little guy with the mirror, the backpack, and the box. I cannot tell you how many perfect strangers helped me to get those boxes, particularly the bookshelf, to my apartment. To all of them I say thank you, and that I hope your kindness comes back to reward you. And to the attractive one who helped me, though we didn't speak, I hope that we meet again soon.
So, that took up all of the afternoon and into the evening, with the morning having been filled with my Japanese lesson, and wandering that mall waiting for my friend. A good portion of that night was spent building the bed slats, while the bookshelf waited for today, because I lacked any kind of screw driver. Now, however, everything is built, and looking fantastic.
Before I end for the night, I must mention that I spent most of today with my other staff members at a potluck lunch at my manager's apartment. That we were not just all willing to come together on a day off to do this, but that we were understanding of those who couldn't come speaks volumes about some of the reasons I really like working here. I am blessed to be with some of the nicest ladies on the planet--all of whom are fantabulous chefs--and I cannot wait to see the magic that we can all create in our little corner of the world. I am more than happy to spend a day with them, even after work. We got some money for a New Years party--and some more money for doing so well last year--so we went to a six course restaurant on Saturday after work. The food (pictures soon) was aromatic and succulent, each course topping the last. Perhaps the best, though, was when they brought out the birthday surprise for one of my co-workers. My manager had forgotten that she had ordered it, and was as surprised as the rest of us. So, I would like to take this moment to say thank you to all of my fellow staff members for being such amazing people, and a special thank you as well to my manager, for always taking such good care of us.
This has been another adventure in the austentatious. If you liked me, tell your friends; if you hated me, tell your enemies; and if you didn't care either way, then tell everyone. Now, good night.
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