You might remember this:
My sunroom studio -- almost perfect. The chairs are comfy, the table is sturdy, the windowsills are handy for the putting down of coffee mugs and glasses of lemonade.
But something was missing.
Back in the fall, when I made this space, I had intended to get a bookshelf. I have a fair few knitting books, and tools that I need to have close to hand when I'm up to my elbows in yarn. I was on a mission and on a budget. I tried, for weeks, to scare one up for free. No luck. Then I went to the thrift stores. There were a couple of beautiful bookcases, but they weren't for sale. I started contemplating where I might find a book case close to home. There was one at Canadian Tire, but the budget whinged. Loudly and immediately. We tried Home Depot. But that one was too-o-o big. Definitely Not a Good Thing.
I waited, patiently. It began to feel like I would always be tripping over books in my bedroom. And like I would always have to go somewhere else to retrieve the info I needed, five minutes after sitting down to knit. It was getting frustrating.
A couple of weeks ago, as I was finishing up a class at the yarn shop, I got a phone call from the Man o' my Dreams. "Any plans for the rest of the day?" he asked.
"Nope," said I, "Whatcha got in mind?"
"Let's go to IKEA."
When one gets to be a certain age (40-something), with certain life responsibilities (kids, mortgage, gassy cats), IKEA is as close to a theme park as one is likely to get. So, off we headed to the Big City, for a visit to the Theme Park for Furniture.
After weaving our way through herds of slow-moving furniture shoppers (and their fleet-footed, agile offspring), we found the book case display floor.
There was the venerable Billy
There was Expedit
There was Expedit, again
And then!
Smadal
A bookcase I could live with, under budget! And, at 5 feet 6 inches, relatively easy to get home, too. (You do not want to be taking a seven foot bookcase home in a Corolla. Trust me.)
Now, for the fun part.
Anybody got a screwdriver?
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