Renovations do something to your brain. Suddenly you’re not shopping, you’re questing. You’re not browsing, you’re hunting. And the prize is always something weirdly specific like “a counter-height swivel stool with cushioning that doesn’t feel like sitting on a decorative brick.”
Last week, my husband and I found the stool at Homesense. Perfect height. Nice cushion. Swivels like it’s ready to gossip with you while you drink coffee and pretend your kitchen isn’t currently a construction zone.
There was one problem.
They only had one.
Just one lonely stool sitting there like, “I’m your soulmate, but also I’m going to ruin your whole plan.”
So we did the responsible adult thing. We called around. We asked. We searched. We tried to accept our fate and move on, even though I was emotionally attached after five minutes.
And then last night, at 8:15 PM, my husband calls the downtown store again.
And they have another one.
Downtown.
Twenty minutes away.
Also, they’re closing soon.
So what do we do?
We go full renovation gremlin.
We had to grab the local one first, then launch ourselves across town like we were in an action movie, except our getaway vehicle is my SUV and the treasure is furniture that will absolutely get scuffed if you breathe near it wrong.
We raced through Store #1, grabbed the stool, and then it was tires on the road to Store #2. No time for dignity. No time for casual browsing. This was a timed mission.
We made it, power-walked in like we owned the place, and somehow… somehow… we pulled off the impossible.
Not only did we get the stool, we also found a rug (because of course we did), and by the time we were done stuffing my SUV like a game of Tetris, we walked out with three chairs and three minutes to spare.
Three minutes.
That’s not shopping. That’s a heist.
That’s renovations for you. One minute you’re trying to write a book or eat dinner like a normal human, and the next you’re doing closing-time sprints for furniture like it’s survival gear.
Anyway, if you need me, I’ll be sitting on my hard-earned swivel throne, pretending I’m not still thinking about what else Homesense might be hiding in those aisles.
All the best,
Tia
