Fuck you, job - I've got Ikea

I honestly spent 6 hours at Ikea on Saturday with my neighbor. I want every bloody thing in that entire store.

Work has been utterly complicated lately and I can't get into it except to say that my department is down 1 and a half people and it's our busiest time of the year, so the situation is prime for "the boss" to have his annual panty-party. It's already begun in some respects. He tells every person who walks by his office how busy he is...how swamped and overwhelmed he is ...as if he's the only one. We've all volunteered to help and have really been working well to pick up the slack, but none of that matters in the face of his "sacrifice." Ugh. Whatever. I'm so sick of this job taking up my valuable mental space. I want to coast. Come in. Do my job. Go home. I honestly envy people who are capable of not getting passionately worked up about EVERY THING that happens around them. I want so desperately not to care.

I really have to do something different with my life; and soon.

But back to the good news: Ikea has come to town just when our house needed it. I love you, Ikea. Really I do.