In Search of Futon

Yesterday was the final burst of activity that moved us and accompanying stuff to the big, bad, castle city. In the middle of an incoming typhoon. It veered off, and so we just had wind and a little spitting, sideways rain. But it was exhilarating. In the afternoon I journeyed to a store that a northerly-dwelling fellow orientationeer recommended--Nafuco. O! Beauty of Do It Yourself! O! Warehouse of Wonder! Why looking at various forms of shelving or curtains should make me giddy, I don't know, but we lost a good half of our stuff to moving, because it belonged to the prefecture, not to us. But I was in search of... FUTON! We have decided not to bother buying a bed, because it is big and clunky, and a decent one would be expensive. But -proper- futon, those are a delight. And I think, after three years here, that I did pretty darn well, even got the little mat things to go underneath!! (Although I was comparing prices for a good long while, so long in fact that I noticed the same security guard pass me by no fewer than four times... Discrimination? Maybe. But I think by the time I wheeled my towering doublewide shopping cart to the checkout, that did away with any possible suspicion. To repeat the current Shiga anti-shoplifting campaign slogan: STOP THE MANBIKI!) No more rental futon for us! We are OWNERS now. Much to the puzzlement of the staff, I requested delivery. I don't think anyone much walks to this place. The guy I initially asked looked at me curiously, and asked WHERE I wanted it delivered, because they only delivered inside the city. I should have said Zimbabwe.