My companion was obviously rattled. The throng of Reebok Classics, Fred Perry tshirts. We'd been here before but this time seemed so much worse. "It'll be the rain", she said, body pressed, threatened, against the wall of the kiddie ball pool.
How could we blame them? We seeked the same thing afterall; the Swedish self-assembly answer to all our storage problems. But where did it hide? And how long would it be before my companion started her usual tricks. The vastness of this blue and yellow soul-sucker brings out the worst in people! I could feel the Reaper of the Allen Key bearing down upon us already.
We picked our way carefully through the 'living solutions'. Did I want a Faktum kitchen? No. No I did not. How about a Rattan Gunghult rocking-chair? Argh! Stay away from me, I do not live in a conservatory. My companion became more and more agitated, stopping often to shake bookshelves and prod sofa beds, pronouncing everything, "shoddy". I, meanwhile, was colliding with ill-placed nests of tables and scowling at small children who took more than their fair share of miniture pencils from dispensers. Was there no order? My companion knocked over a selection of faux-books and tutted loudly at the person next to her. My bubbling anger that had before been exuding in many directions, suddenly focused in on her.
I turned and fled from 'lighting solutions', screaming wildly through the children's section and flailing my way past 'floor coverings' until I reached my destination - 'window decorations'. My companion soon caught up with me and promptly scolded, "There is no need to storm off, especially not in....this place." Then it truly began; "Voile? Are you insane? You want people to watch you get undressed? Why not just stick a red light in the window and be done with it, Roxanne? (brief pause as I considered this career path) Venetian blinds? Are you insane? Why not just throw a party for the dust? Do you like your allergies being set off? (brief pause as I contemplated what sort of party one might throw for dust) ROMAN BLINDS? Oh, just kill me now."
The fury boiled up so far inside me I felt the desperate need to make a purchase of something I couldn't pronounce, just to cause umbrage in the ranks. Two hours of complaining about everything whilst I patiently picked my way through the hoardes. I needed either my alcohol or my revenge! I grabbed a product off the nearest shelf. Vacker. What was it? Who cared. It was to be mine.
Then I got it home. It was a shoe rack. A shoe rack I do not need. A shoe rack that does not fit in my room. A SHOE RACK OF PURE SPITE.