Throw a chair through the plot wall.
You grab the nearest piece of IKEA and chuck it at the plot wall before you realize that "plot" is an abstract concept of time. Swedish furniture, no matter how trendy or expensive, cannot break the laws of cause and effect. You'd need some fancier chairs for that, maybe those designer ones you see in the expensive restaurants.
Break free from our control.
Then go to your friend's house.
Edit: Take a shower. Change your clothes. If you have work today, do that, then:
Reflect on all you know about the female friend who deals in unusual stuff. Buy her an appropriate gift. Visit her and tell your story. Ask her advice on seeking medical help.
You are fairly sure that breaking free from extradimensional slavery would require either months of meditation or a cocktail of especially illegal drugs. Or one of those fancy chairs mentioned above, but those are bloody expensive (the chair market is inflated right now; wait until the chair bubble bursts).
Your boss has generously given you a full week of paid leave to move into your house; it required an absolutely disgusting amount of hard work and doing your job right, but you have five days entirely to yourself.
Showering sounds like a good plan. You pick up the newspaper and close the front door on your way to the bathroom, glancing at the headline:
THE BOTTOM-FEEDER STRIKES
DERANGED MADMAN TAKES BITES OUT OF BUMS
Remembering the odd meat taste in your mouth, you think you might have a guess as to where you've been last night. You quickly rinse your mouth before hopping in the shower and stop to reflect on Edna.
Edna has been your best friend since freshman year of college. You always suspected her original parents were a bit odd (they named her Edna after all), but you have never met them; from what you can guess, Edna and her parents have a rocky relationship. Even after all this time, you still feel uncomfortable when bringing them up to her. She talks in very broad terms about them and you know better than to push. You are a scholar and a gentleman, after all.
For as long as you've known her, Edna has been one of those odd neo-druids that populate the yoga studios and organic foods aisles of the world. She claims to be atheist, yet practices the elemental tarot, regularly experiments with Ouija boards and keeps a journal of demons and spirits she's encountered. You think her oddness is what keeps her from having more friends; she's free 24/7 as long as she doesn't have work. You've never heard of her going to a party, dancing, eating out with friends or even having a boyfriend. You suspect that she would be a very lonely lady if you hadn't befriended her.
Now that you're fresh like a prince of some Californian suburb, you grab the Zork disk out of the computer and put it in your pocket. On your way out, you snag a pack of pirate-themed playing cards that you had bought a few days ago, meaning to give to Edna; she loves gambling paraphernalia even more than she loves whole-grain bread, and she loves that quite a lot. You exit and begin walking to Edna's place, across the street and several doors down. You knock on the door and a rather short woman in glasses peeks out, grinning a little too enthusiastically as soon as she recognizes you.
"Oh, hello! How are you doing?"