Feb. 6th, 2005

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Mom and I went to IKEA early this morning - catching that half hour breakfast-before-opening thing that I never knew about until recently. We wandered up to the third level, and got the 99 cent breakfast, sipping at coffee, me trying to wake up a little more before the store was officially open. I'd been on the phone late the night before, and was just this side of dreamy. Not a bad thing, really, except when there's a debit card in one's pocket with a healthy balance, and lots of pretty shiny things arrayed before you across several thousand square feet of Scandinavian glory.

A small frying pan, some kitchen utility scissors, and a lamp later (amongst other small things tossed into my cart), mom and I arrived at the downstairs big ticket numbered aisles. A Billy bookcase was all I wanted, but oh, it was huge, and heavy, and looooong. So, there was a tiny bit of recon with my brother, and a tiny bit of measuring tape and hmm'ing and hrm'ing at my mom's car. The box fit just fine, pushing on the gear shift in a slightly alarming fashion, but safe enough to deal with in the long run, as it turned out.

Like some sorta latchkey kid, I was swapped out of my mom's car into my brother's, and we swept off to go hang out for a bit before heading back over to my mom's house to collect my IKEA booty and my car and head back home. Cold Stone Creamery ice cream was had, and we sat on the most comfortable couch ever, watching the pilot episode of Ed. I'd ... never seen that show before. I was utterly charmed. It was exactly what I needed after a Saturday filled with cynicism and blah, y'know? Cute, funny moments. I definitely dig the cute and funny right now. It was also good to hang with my brother a little more.

See, he and his wife are in the process of completely relocating to Texas, and this has been totally chewing at my brain and making me sad, sad, sad. Who'm I gonna go to movies with anymore? If they start a family while down there, how'm I gonna be the Weird Aunt who corrupts them and teaches them spitballs and yawn viruses and silly songs? On and on, and I've been mostly grieving in private. When Ty calls, I feel fine, a little too aware, but fine. As soon as we hang up, my eyes well up, and I just feel the extreme bummage of the proletariat. Or something.

Yeah, so we hung and laughed, and he played the Spongebob Squarepants soundtrack, and John Mayer in the car, and he kept point out his favorite Mayer songs, giving side glances to me to make sure I was really listening to the lyrics. We ate his recipe of ice cream at Cold Stone - vanilla cream with white chocolate chips, fudge, caramel, and graham cracker crust.

We drove back to my mom's and had steak and fries and caesar salad. French silk pie for dessert. Man. Ty found an old chemistry notebook of Gma's, with a sticker in the front emblazoned with "1934." He also found some of his old papers, report cards, etc. His Psychology class chosen nickname was Good Guy Ty. I had forgotten mine: Krystyn of the Cosmos. My mom remembered. Yeesh. Krystyn, of the Cosmos. Sigh.

The box containing the bookcase was busted open and the individual pieces laid into my car for the final trip home, as my tiny car wouldn't be able to hold the box, no matter how creative the angle and the cram. 3 or 4 trips later, it was all indoors, and now I have a birchwood semi-prefabricated thinger to display the overflow that's slowly been taking over my office floor. All authors together at least, all subjects given breathing room. The bookends filched form Barnes & Noble so many years ago finally being put to use.

And I am tired. And a little worn. And missing my brother already, even though he's not gone yet.

Isn't that always the way.

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