Change

Bianca's comment yesterday lingered in my mind so stubbornly that I couldn't sleep. Just as I'd close my eyes, I'd have a nightmare that I was locked in jail with bones protruding from my ankle and wrist I'd injured while moving the day before. It didn't help that the room was pitch black and so each time I awoke with a start I wondered if I was even still alive, because it sure looked that way.

All day long I was stuck in that fog. The day before I had been so excited to move and begin my next adventure, but suddenly it all seemed so unfortunate and scary. I wandered the streets of Madrid, vaguely on a search for decorations for my tiny room, but I didn't have alertness for it, as my mind became more and more entangled in fear... fear that I had maxed out my good luck and that the pendulum of good fortune was about to swing in the opposite direction.

It took me hours and hours to realize it, but when I did, I grinned, relived. I was simply experiencing the fear of change.

Phew!

Once upon a time Mr. Fear of Change and I were sworn enemies. I could hardly enjoy a positive experience for five minutes without him whispering in my ear and ruining it all. But then one day I bought a book that changed our relationship forever. As I inhaled the pages I learned that he was actually a sweet little fellow who'd been sorely misunderstood all these years. After several heart-to-hearts, we actually even became good friends, which culminated in my wrist tattoo.

And so when I realized it was just him visiting and not some other big, bad scary fear that was out to drag me under, my sanguinity quickly started flowing through my veins again and I shifted my attention to the day's mission of decoration.

Four large stores and countless hours later I was starting to feel like giving up when I saw it. I stared at it for a good minute before I began jumping up and down and mumbling to myself like a crazy person. I looked at the price tag, but didn't care. It was too perfect! But when I went to find the box on the shelf, it wasn't there. I searched again and again, to no avail. I hunted down a sweet man on duty and desperately asked if he could help me. I'm not sure if it was my emotional sincerity or my American accent, but he grinned at me for a moment before picking up the phone to ask about the availability of my item.

"I see. So there aren't any left? None at all?" he said into the phone, nodding. He saw my hopeful smile fall. "Okay, then." He winked at me. "Thanks so much."
I felt like I was at the teacher's desk about to receive my final mark as I swayed on my feet waiting for him to hang up. What if there weren't any more?!

Finally he put the phone down and smiled reassuringly. He explained that they'd just discontinued the item but that I might be able to find a few still left over in the discount section at the end of the warehouse. I thanked him and ran.

Oh how the Ikea gods had smiled down on me! Not only did I find it there, but it was 70% off!!!! Holy crap, Batman!!!! I picked up that six foot tall box and hugged it, squealing and giggling like a little kid.

Over the next 45 minutes I retraced my steps with notable exigency and vigor through the Ikea maze, collecting a few pillows here, a blanket there, a planter here, a rug there until my big yellow Ikea bag could be filled no further. I felt like I was a contestant in Supermarket Sweep and I loved every glorious second of the adrenaline rush!

The question of logistics, of course, hit me after I was all checked out: how was I going to get all of it home? I had a purse, an Ikea bag that probably weighed a good 35 lbs and a six foot tall box that wasn't super light, either. I texted my friend about my comical pickle and he suggested Ikea delivery, but I've never been one to turn down a challenge.

What should have been a 15 minute walk to the metro took me an hour and fifteen minutes, with me pausing every half blog on incredibly auspiciously placed benches along the way. When I finally got to the metro, the new issue was getting all of the stuff through in time while passing my ticket in the machine. That was quickly resolved, however, when a sweet girl who turned out to be a police officer told me to go through with her when they opened the gate for her as she showed her police ID.

As we waited for the metro to arrive, we struck up a cute little conversation, which continued several stops until she had to get off! She told me all about being a police officer and about all of the cities she'd lived in in Spain. I told her about being an English teacher and about my desire to practice Spanish more this year. It was by far the most adorable random conversation I've ever had with a stranger in a foreign language!

Bianca met me at Sol and helped me carry everything home from there (thank goodness!). While she went and looked at more apartments, David and I sat at the kitchen table and had a cute conversation over a snack of bananas and a freshly baked baguette!

Despite waking up anxiety-riden, my day turned out to be splendid. I am so eager to put all of my goodies from Ikea in my room and create a cozy, enchanted nook for myself in my newest adventure here in Malasaña.

As I turned off my lights to go to bed, Mr. Fear of Change blew me a goodnight kiss and disappeared into the dark. If today's any indication, my tattoo continues to ring true. I'm ready. Here we go. <3 data-blogger-escaped-br="">