On Your Feet!

Don't take it sitting down!

Inspired by Anna's post on IKEA Hackers, I decided to make myself a reasonably economical standing desk. Not, perhaps, as economical as Anna's, but still a heck of a lot more affordable than most of the options out there. The Anna in the IKEA hacker post is not to be confused with my own ten-year-old Anna, who is, don't get me wrong, brilliant and creative, but has not yet to my knowledge invented an item of furniture of any kind. Give her time, for crissakes, she's only ten. Sheesh.

I used my existing desk as a base, though I'll probably replace it with another Vika Amon 23.5" x 45" tabletop ($19.99) and four of IKEA's $3.50 table legs. It'll look a little more uniform, and anyway, my old desk is a cracked and peeling piece of crap.

So the thinking here is that I spend most of my waking time sitting at the computer, which is a polite way of saying that I spend most of my waking time sitting on my ass. I've read a few articles about what a bad idea this is, and it only makes sense, doesn't it? Standing at the new desk, I tend not to stand still; I shift my weight from foot to foot, idly lift a knee to stretch one leg behind me, march in place, dance around a little bit, in a fidgety way. It's about four hours a day - quite a bit more on weekends (this is my home workstation) which was spent in almost total inactivity, now spent in light activity.

So here's what I used to make my desk:

1 - cheap ass cracking peeling piece of crap old desk - $0.00, tax included
1 - Vika Amon 23.5" x 45" tabletop in black finish - $19.99 plus tax
1 - 4-pack 8" Capita legs - $14.00 plus tax
1 - Ekby Jarpen shelf - $9.99 plus tax
2 - Ekby Tore brackets - $5.00 each, $10.00 plus tax

Note that the shelf and brackets do not include screws, which is kind of weird for IKEA, who usually provide not only the hardware required, but many of the actual tools needed for assembly. Fortunately, I have a pathological inability ever to throw away anything that looks as if it might possibly be useful in the future, with the result that I was quickly able to get my hands on the screws needed to assemble my shelf without ever leaving my house (again - IKEA is in Round Rock, or possibly Houston). There's a lesson in that somewhere, but it probably isn't a very good one.

So that's $54 to convert my desk from sitting to standing. Once I add another Vika Amon tabletop and the Curry legs, the total will ratchet up to a whopping $88. Not really too shabby!

I did also spring an additional $30 for a barstool at Wal-Mart (I'm sorry, I realize that I've just contaminated this post beyond all hope of usefulness to anyone) so that Anna (my ten-year-old, not Anna from IKEA Hackers) could still use the computer. She's short, I'm sorry to say, but she's doing her best to amend that fault as fast as she can, eating all her vegetables, etc.

And speaking of height differential, here are a few notes on the finished size of the standing desk. The keyboard/mousing surface is 38" high, which works perfectly for me at 5'5" tall. If you need a lower desk, the Capita legs are also available in 4" and 6" heights, for a slightly lower price. If you need a taller desk, you can buy bed risers/bed lifts, which can add another 4-8" to the length of the legs, for around ten bucks.

A couple of additional notes:

1. I live about one mile from the Congress Avenue bridge, and I have never witnessed the famous bat emergence, which takes place every evening at some unspecified time determined only by the caprice of a million winged rodents. Or not. Maybe they're not hungry. However, in two trips to IKEA last week, one to scope out available materials and one actually to make the purchase, I TWICE saw a colony of bats emerge from underneath I-35 in long, smoky coils. Beautiful! A coworker of mine, who lives in Round Rock, said, "Oh yeah, we call those the 'white-trash' bats. They don't even go south for the winter." And apparently, they are not too proud to show themselves to passing motorists, while hordes of spectators along the Congress Avenue bridge, or even on bat-watching riverboat cruises, every single evening from March through October, may well go home disappointed. Fucking hipster bats.

2. My feet are KILLING me, especially the heels. From what I read online, this is perfectly normal and nothing to be alarmed about. Once my feet and I come to an understanding about who is responsible for standing and who is responsible for being stood upon, I plan to convert my desk at work as well. This would necessarily mean no more wearing high heels to the office (sigh).

I have a couple of different options for this:

a. Go to the doctor's office. Get a note that says I need a standing desk. Wait around in the waiting room (on my ass, incidentally) for an indefinite amount of time, and fork over a $20 copay. Work pays for whatever the actual desk costs, probably a lot.

b. Go to IKEA. Buy the super-cheap white VIKA Amon tabletop, 4 Capita legs, and an Ekby shelf and brackets. Total cost: about $40.

For the time being, I'm about ready to offer sexual favors in exchange for a good foot rub. Or I could get a pedicure at River Salon and Spa for $20, which is probably a better deal, because it includes getting my toenails done.

Life Goes On, Yeah

If there's one thing I've learned over the past three years, it's that you should never go anywhere without a camera.

Thank goodness for friends. I have some great ones, and there are times in your life when you realize how badly you need them, how heavily you rely on them, and how terribly lost you'd be without them. Last night I went to Tony's for movies and champagne. We watched Fool's Gold, not exactly the greatest movie ever made, but quite nice for drifting off to sleep on your friend's shoulder.

Robbie came down today in some hopes of buying a new coffeemaker at IKEA. We had thought of going last weekend as well, but never quite made it: it's too crowded there on the weekend, and if Robbie's driven all the way down to Austin to hang out with me, why would he drive me all the way back up to Round Rock, then drop me off down here again, then return to Georgetown? It's a lot of driving, even for a normal person.

I had a dream about another friend of mine, one I love dearly - I guess I should say a former friend. We've had a falling out, probably irreparable I'm afraid, and are not speaking now. I dreamt I asked him, anxiously, if he were seeing some other girl (since I've been accustomed to considering him as my own personal property). He hemmed, he hawed, he was evasive. Finally it came out that he had indeed met a girl and the relationship was quite promising - except she lived on the other side of town, and he didn't like to drive that far out of his way, so it wasn't going anywhere. In my dream I was jealous and upset. Once I was awake I laughed until tears were streaming down my face. That's exactly how it would be! Dreams are not supposed to be quite that realistic.

Robbie sent me an email week before last. "We need to go to IKEA," he wrote. "I need a fresh prince. I leaned down too hard and the glass broke, and ever since that I've been supporting Starbucks."

I was confused, and for several minutes pondered typing, "IKEA sounds good. What the fuck are you talking about?!" Then I remembered that a fresh prince is what we call a French press.

Bed Bath & Beyond has them, but they cost three times as much as they do at IKEA (although they might be more durable). So we gave up on that, had lunch, got Robbie a new iPod nano (ooh they are pretty!), picked up some coffee from Dominican Joe, and spent a couple of hours at Little Stacy. Someone's placed a cement Buddha there by the creek, which just goes to show that an afternoon spent with Robbie is always a religious experience. But a picture taken with his phone didn't come out well enough to post here.

We're starting to talk about another Corpus trip, over Memorial Day weekend. That Friday, the 22nd, will be my fortieth birthday. Forty! My God! That's, like - well, I don't know. It's forty. It's hard to pretend you aren't a grown-up when you hit that age.

But as God is my witness, and with the help of all the friends I can muster, I damn well intend to try. And there will be pictures.

Needful Things

If this were a perfect world, IKEA would sell shoes. Alas! they do not.

Shopping can be a confusing and scary experience. I went to San Marcos to see Margie today. I was there for work during our Central Texas fam tour and learned that the Victoria's Secret outlet store sells bras for $5, and this piece of information has itched around in my brain ever since, accumulating layers of desire and temptation like nacre on a grain of sand, until finally today I gazed upon the flawless pearl and breathed, "Let's to to the Outlet Malls!"

Okay, maybe not so much, I realized after approximately 0.1 minutes of attempting to navigate the parking lot, in which some benighted architect, perhaps consumed with the same egocentric mania that makes the main character of Ayn Rand's "The Fountainhead" such an irredeemable prick, only with a sense of humor, which I must observe Ayn Rand does not appear to possess, has placed a turning circle - that grand institute which embodies everything that is most anarchic and terrifying about Old-World driving. Miraculously, we made it back to I-35 unscathed, and settled for a nice visit to the playscape instead. You can't get $5 bras there, but you can probably get some good drugs, if you know when to go. Curfew's not till 11.

We did, however, make it to Bath and Body Works and to Goodwill. Clothes, cosmetics and shoes are the Holy Trinity of balms for a broken heart. So that's two down, and I'm going to IKEA with Robbie tomorrow, even though he complained that the bed be bought there over a year ago is now falling apart; and I had to point out that we were after all drunk when we assembled it. He needs a new coffeemaker, which hopefully won't suffer the same fate.

I figure if I pour enough margaritas into him, I can get him into a shoe store.

Language Lessons

Just when you thought IKEA already carried everything you could ever possibly want to buy, you go back and find that you can now purchase douchecrème.

Fine, fine, call it shower gel if it makes you feel better. I actually wanted to buy the exfoliating kind, because the Dutch name printed on the bottle (via French of course) was "peeling douche," but the instructions said to use it two times a week, max. I figure that goes for Elizabeth too.

They also have a great big long bar of soap that's segmented, like a Hershey bar, so you break off the individual bars. Its label reads:

soap bar
savon
barra de jabón
seife
zeep
sapone
sabonete
tvål
sæbe
såpe
saippua
mydlo

I can't identify all those languages for sure, but I can tell you that the Danish call shower gel "bodyshampoo." This is very logical and straightforward, and exactly what you'd expect from a people that make such excellent use of cherries and cream cheese.

Another thing I learned during our excursion yesterday is that "DSL" refers to something else besides an alternative to cable.

IKEA: is there anything it can't do?

Three Cheers for the Yellow and Blue!

I remember when I first visited IKEA, almost seventeen years ago. It was the one in Potomac Mills, Maryland, and I went there with my mom, and we bought a crib for this kid's older brother. Do I have recessive genes or what?!

At the time, I appeared to be the only person in Texas to be aware of the existence of such a store. Now you can't drive halfway to Dallas without hitting one.

It's the perfect place to while away a rainy Fourth of July, or would be, if pretty much the entire population of central Texas didn't have exactly the same idea. It's still a cool store. I did not buy any more furniture, any potted plants, lavender-scented candles, kitchen gadgets, fabric, rugs, toys, heart-shaped pillows, mattresses, strings of leaf- and flower-shaped outdoor lights, powerstrips, vases, framed art, or anything else.

Until we got to the checkout counter, where they had umbrellas on display, for half price. And they're soooo big. And I have been suffering a bit from umbrella envy lately.

Now if the rain hadn't stopped, I'd be set.

Things You Didn't Know

... Or did you?

Today I learned that those concrete median barrier things they put up on highways when they're doing construction - you know, those tallish skinnyish things that are just about the right height to scrape your side mirrors clean off, if you drift out of the center of your lane even the tiniest bit? I always get white-knuckled when I'm driving next to those. Anyway, today I found out that they weigh 639 pounds per linear foot.

So much for the idea of hopping out of the car and scootching them surreptitiously a little onto the other side of the road.

A few other things of which you may or may not be aware:

- Middle school orchestra concerts are really not that enjoyable, no matter how closely related you are to some of the participants.
- Shopping at IKEA is an excellent way to make religious observances on Good Friday, April 6th, and I think I might feel a bit of a sore throat coming on.
- The Bitching Smoker quit smoking. She also knowingly refrained from running over a couple of jaywalking coworkers as she pulled into the parking lot this morning. I'm kind of worried she might start dressing in orange robes and handing out flowers.
- Dominican Joe's, at the corner of South Congress and Riverside, has such excellent coffee that I expect them at any minute to be sued by the bereaved families of employees at the neighboring state agency, who have been run over and killed while jaywalking.
- Biking to and from work every day feels really good. I'm even getting used to the hills! But my hiney is sore.
- Happy hour at Gingerman tomorrow!

I Heart IKEA

Who would not love that store?

Yesterday I went there with Robbie. I frugally purchased only a clock for the kitchen wall, a rug to go under the kitchen sink, a second rug for the bedroom which has that nasty-ass brown flecked linoleum tile, you understand, a full-length mirror so I can better admire what a delectably stylish girl I am, a couple of powerstrips, and a lovely soft poofy pair of house slippers (I'm not used to uncarpeted floors) and escaped for just under $42 - my favorite number, naturally. I love that store!

Robbie bought everything else they had.

After our trip we went back to his place to assemble some furniture, and I suppose I could claim we've taken our friendship to the next level in that we made up his bed together. It might have been advisable not to have done so whilst drinking strawberry margaritas; but we did, with the result that we broke off a chunk of it, I sliced my finger, he hurt his toe, I showed him how to make hospital corners, and within half an hour of being completed, the bed completely collapsed.

It's those IKEA instructions, you know. They're designed not to be language-dependent, so they consist entirely of drawings. The drawings of the furniture and its composite pieces are not particularly humorous, but the drawings of what IKEA apparently thinks you look like when putting together a table are rather humbling. Did you know that when you are hurt or confused, your mouth is a big down-turning wobbly line, and giant question marks radiate from your head? You idiot.

One page showed a picture of the bed rail we were installing next to a prominently displayed bleeding finger. We laughed at the silly picture, and were still giggling when I felt underneath for a screw hole and suddenly yelled, "Ouch!" Lesson learned: Do not mock IKEA. Because IKEA will cut you, bitch.

So now I want to get a wrought-iron bed frame and two wine-red couches, but I think I'd better use some protection this time.