Swedish Blondes
At last, back to work, a blessed relief from what seemed would be endless trips to Ikea. Sure, the furniture bought last week got delivered on time, all fourteen out of fifteen flat-packs. Only the Swedes know what happened to the coffee table, and they're not telling. But the bookshelves went up pretty quickly and everything finally got unpacked, so the house looks like home. Really, I don't mind going to Ikea, so long as there's no track-work, forcing me onto alternative bus service, which adds an hour onto the trip. And I don't mind putting the stuff together, either, although at this point, if I never see an allen wrench again, it'll be too soon.

Now, in keeping with my theme, i.e., culture-shock temper tantrums, I should just mention that the Ikea experience is slightly off from what I came to expect from trips out to Elizabeth, N.J., whereat a serve of Swedish meatballs came with red bliss potatoes. Here, in keeping with a different starch tradition, it's chips, i.e., French fries. Not that I'm actually complaining, you know, just saying, is all.

Meanwhile, I also bought some new audio equipment. For once in my life, I not only went to a dedicated hi-fi shop, but chatted with the salesman, getting the low down on the different brands and what they delivered. I could have bought a package and gotten a good deal, but went with components instead, relying on the principle that it all comes down to the speakers, which is where I spent a bit more than I'd budgeted. Nevertheless, having hooked it all up and tried out the different options: CD, tape, phono, radio, I'm amazed. This is easily the best set-up I've ever owned. The sound's so good, it's scarey, and I'm dialling down the volume just so I don't rattle the plaster off the bricks. Yeah, I'd go back to the HiFi Trader anytime, but don't expect to have to. They sold me solid, reliable equipment that'll last for years and will sound good wherever I live, I have no doubt.