Today after work, I went to Ikea. I had been meaning to go there for a while, but the trip was extremely poorly planned—I hadn't even measured the spaces I had been meaning to fill, and I left work pretty late and had no idea how to get there. I did actually find my way, despite Robinson Town Center being a veritable chaotic spawn.
While inside, I had to fight pretty hard to avoid being overwhelmed by a regretful sense of deja vu—the last time I had been to Ikea, Ratha and I were picking out furniture. I did buy a few things—a tray, a hanging storage unit which I just found out doesn't have quite the dimensions I thought, a set of six brandy flutes one of which I've already managed to break, and a jigger (finally)—but what was perhaps more notable were the things I didn't buy. I would have bought a knife block, but the two that they had both had knives already in them and didn't seem quite right anyway (I had sort of planned to go to Bed, Bath and Beyond to purchase this, but I didn't end up going there—read on to find out why). There were some picture frames, and the idea of making a triptych which Ratha had suggested was still on my mind, but then I thought, what pictures would I actually put in there? Wouldn't putting ones of Ratha and me be kind of morbid? (The truth is that I don't honestly believe that, but if I put them somewhere that anyone else could see them, I'd feel guilty for likely causing them to believe untrue things, and I think Ratha would have a negative opinion of my displaying those pictures, and so I refrain from doing something even though I think I would enjoy it.) And I wanted to buy a rug to go just inside my door, but none of them were quite right—I could have compromised my standards, but I really wanted something either pure black, pure white, or a highly saturated color, and very soft and fuzzy.
Anyway, when I left it was about 20:20, so I figured I would drive back towards Pittsburgh and if I saw BB&B on the way I would stop there, but if not I'd just go home. What actually happened, though, is that I ended up going the wrong way, was too obstinate to just turn around, and eventually found my way back home through God knows where. This is a pattern through which I've gone many times before, but not for a while—I think not since I got lost in the Southside the first day of work at Jason's studio when it was raining so hard.
I saw Bullseye on the way to Robinson Town Centre, and I was passing by there about 19:20, and I left work pretty late, so it looks like it might be perfectly possible to go there after work. In other disappointing news, I meant to go to the range this past weekend, but somehow never dredged up the motivation to actually do so. Not having people to do things with seems to drain all the point out of them pretty consistently. What I did end up doing over the weekend was spending almost an entire day, from Saturday evening to Sunday evening, at Mark's place. I had very interrupted sleep Saturday night (people were watching TV in the living room, where I eventually ended up sleeping, though I hadn't really planned to) and slept practically all day Sunday. This time was remarkably non-productive, but also fairly bearable, so I suppose it comes out about a zero on the net value scales. I need to figure out how to be more productive in the presence of others. I get lonely (and thus, unable to do anything) too easily for being by myself to be a reliable state (although it does sometimes work well), but when I'm with other people they set the agenda, with me offering occasional input, and I find websurfing to be about as taxing an activity as I can successfully carry out (when what I'd really like to get done is programming and/or writing).