I’m home this week for my birthday. I’m getting my hairs did, going to the doctor, visiting the dentist, and getting ready to go back out. I’m basically running around like a nut bag, trying to get a bunch of stuff done so I can go back out to the bliss where no one but drunk chicks at the Love’s bother me. Kidding! I love being home, but I do enjoy my time on the road.
I took time out of my busy schedule this week to go to Ikea, because I have been brainwashed by some of my hipster friends into believing Ikea is the answer to all my organizational problems. I’m not crazy about mega-stores, I avoid Sam’s and Costco and generally shun Walmart, unless we’re on the road and have no other choice. I have never had the burning desire to purchase 11,000 square feet of toilet paper, or a fifty gallon drum of peanut butter, so the warehouse scene isn’t for me. I had never been to an Ikea, based solely on the warehouse factor.
I was immediately overwhelmed by the size of the place and number of scarf-wearing people swarming in and out of it. It was as if a skinny jean eruption had Columbia down vests, Ugg boots and voluminous neck wear all over an entire three-mile radius. I must say, I had never considered Ugg boots menswear, and after viewing said fashion statement in person, I still don’t.
Apparently, I’m not nearly cool enough to know what to do with about 90 percent of what Ikea sells. I kept finding myself staring at things afraid to touch them for fear I would be brandishing a Swedish sex toy in public. The textiles are wonderful, but after seeing 75 people pick up the same set of sheets, I knew if I bought those sheets I would be forever assimilated into the Ikea collective. I’m fairly certain the Borg is alive and well and living in the bowels of an Ikea in Flagstaff. Wearing Ugg boots and a scarf.
I’ve decided I’m not Ikea material, mostly because I have a hard time trusting anyone who would send me out the door with a shoe box that weighs 900 pounds and supposedly contains a king-size bed frame, two end tables and a six-drawer dresser. The first lie is that I can get the damn box out of the trunk and into the house without a forklift, and the second lie is that I may in my lifetime be able to assemble a king-size bed frame, two end tables and a six-drawer dresser without the aid of wizards and elves. Yeah, Ikea, sure.
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