Do I lead a sad life? I peruse every page of the new Ikea catalog, thinking of narratives to accompany each scene. The rasta'd kids on the orange sofas? The Jamaican Ambassador's children on holiday. The dining room with masses of floor rugs and platters of dried meat and cheese? A late winter dinner at the country house. The Asian woman sitting at a drafting table? A graphic designer waiting for the nanny to return from the park with the kids. The family sleeping together in one ergonomic bed? Well...I just don't know.
Today is Valentine's Day, and when I perused the receipt from Monday's visit to Wal-Mart I noticed that MoBob had purchased something called a "hog mug" for $2.35. Hmm.
A hog mug, now there's romance for you!
I don't think that sort of catalog dreaming is sad at all. In fact I used to play a similar 'game' with children I looked after. When I would take them out and about to keep them well behaved on the bus I would pick strangers walking past on the street and we'd take it in turns to make up little life stories for them. Hours of fun!