The plumbers are here installing a new toilet in the upstairs bathroom. The home warranty is paying for it, because the previous one is old and rusty and corroded and leaking. However, apparently it doesn’t come with a seat. We can buy a cheap white plastic one for $25, or handle it ourselves. Which we’ll do, because the nice oak ones don’t cost much more. But Ken’s headed to OC immediately after the plumbers leave, so we won’t have a seat today. I’ll just pretend it’s a public toilet in Italy and be grateful it’s not a hole in the ground. (Seriously, a fair number of public toilets in Italy, in the women’s rooms, don’t have seats. I don’t know why.)

Words to the Wise: It is wise not to forget plumbers are coming and be, um, otherwise occupied when the doorbell rings…

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Update: There’s a chip in the toilet (in a place that you really can’t see, but still), so they threw in the seat for free. Happy toilet seat dance! (No, really. I did create one in Italy.)

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Yet another reason to hate Ikea:

Okay, so I’ve been clear that I think Ikea furniture is some of the most butt-ugly stuff I’ve ever seen. Which is embarassing given that we’re buying a sofa and a kitchen sideboard/counter from them. Ken has told me I’m overreacting, that yes, most of their stuff is indeed butt-ugly, but they do have a few decent pieces, and I’ve grudgingly agreed he’s right.

But after today, I still don’t have to _like_ them.

We rented a van and he drove all the way down to OC to buy the sofa and counter, after being assured that they were in stock. The sofa was, in fact, not in stock. They apparently were supposed to physically check the stock on hand when he called, but relied on the computer instead.

So now Ken has to spend the night down there (he was going to go to Baronial Council and then come home), then come home via Carson tomorrow, where the Ikea swears they do have the sofa in stock. (Watch: it’ll be the wrong colour.)

To say I’m not impressed would be a gross understatement. At the very least, they should have offered to ship us the sofa at no cost. Somebody’s corporate office is going to get a very unhappy consumer letter from us very soon. And if that letter includes the statement that we are unlikely to shop at Ikea ever again, that statement would not be a lie.

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So I’m spending my first night alone in the house. Weird. The hardwood floors make things echo-y; the cats make noises louder than I expect. Plus we’ve already had kitchen and china cabinet doors opening by themselves.

(I will _not_ think about the TV ads for the creepy “The Grudge” move. I will _not_.)

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A few hundred more words on the damn story. I don’t know why I’m being so slow. I’ve got to double my current total wordcount at a minimum tomorrow, or all bets are off. (Or oof, as I originally typed.)