I've had better ideas
A couple of Saturdays ago, I had the rare circumstance of having the house to myself for nearly an entire weekend. I got up early on Saturday and thought to head to Ikea, in search of a small dresser/clothes and jewelry organizer for Mrs. Chicken. The store opens at 10. I was shrewd and got there 45 minutes early, only to find this scene.
And that line grew by the second in clumps of 12-15 at a time. Not only had I blown a half-hour drive, to fucking Canton of all places -- a suburban enclave whose reputation has been built upon apartment complexes housing single, second-grade teachers emptying boxes of Franzia on Friday nights, and McMansion subdivisions of $350,000, 2,000-square-foot house(s) of cards built with paper-thin walls and scab labor -- but I lost most of a Saturday morning. So, I zig-zagged out of the parking lot, past the roomy denim shorts with white Reeboks, past the strollers, past the strip malls, and back to the highway.
The culprit in all of this (unbeknownst to me)? Free breakfast. Free fucking breakfast. I get there 45 minutes in an attempt to be cunning and slick, and get my ass in and get the hell out. The rest of these ass clowns showed up for a free pastry and some goddamn juice. Serves me right. I should be buying locally.
