I.I.S

There is a serious rift between The Man and I at the moment, it has lasted two days and shows no sign of being lifted anytime soon.
No, there has not been a serious relationship crisis, adultery or the like - simply the mistake of me asking The Man to accompany me to Ikea. What a drama.
Now I am well aware like many of the weaker sex The Man suffers from a disorder known as I.I.S (Irrational Ikea Syndrome) Whereby at just the mention of the I word, starts coming out in a cold sweat and behaves as though a tic has taken over his face. Because of this I rarely make the request choosing fellow Ikea lover - my mom or best mate instead only bothering The Man as a last result. It is also well known that if your ever on the verge of breaking up Ikea will ensure that your relationship is all over by the time you are leaving the car park - inevitably with one of you walking.
Usually during my annual trips with The Man I ensure that there is purpose to the shop and that I only take the recommended 30 mins in store to prevent the Mans symptoms coming to boil… so far so good.
But this was not to be on our last visit. Hence the Hate Stares currently being exchanged.
After shoe horning him though the front entrance with the promise that lunch is on me, I managed to keep him preoccupied by allowing him to be in charge of the buggy & Infant Son. Daughter and Stepson both elsewhere to keep the mission simple. Although I did notice the odd twitch as I browsed the kitchen area, overall I was impressed that all was going to plan. With still 10 mins on the clock I have got us down to collect various goods. Good stuff.
Unbeknown to me, restocking was taking place. On arriving to the warehouse area we were delayed by forklifts and ultimately unable to proceed to relevant aisles to get bathroom cabernet - then finding the correct aisle only to see that the guy in front has the last one on his trolley. Very frustrating I know, I even considered distracting him so that The Man could steal it off the trolley. But could see that even suggesting something like that in jest could maybe not be seen as funny .
The Man’s hyperventilating and the hulk noises were starting. I got the trolley to the checkout and could see light at the end of the tills. We waited, and waited. By this point the infant son was not too impressed either, finding the washing up brushes not half as interesting as half an hour ago. Grunting and winging Like father like son!
At last we were at the tills and all ready to pay. Only my purse was not in my bag…
nor would it be in the car…a dark cloud was rapidly forming over my head as I know full well I have left it on the bed at home next to The Mans Wallet, had been preoccupied trying to find my stinking mascara!
So there we have it. I not only made him go to Ikea but I also managed to have him queue up with me for twenty minutes only to leave empty handed and with no promise of lunch.
But hay, he will cool down soon ( I hope ) and at least I found my lip balm.
Mascara still missing.