I don't know about you, but when I was a kid and otherwise a fan of the Muppets, the Swedish Chef kinda scared me. He was always upset about something, and every time we saw him, we knew we were moments away from his complete mental breakdown. One second he'd seem so cute and unassuming, and the next he'd be sing-song yelling and throwing fish.
I was at Ikea for almost four hours today.
"Sweetie, is this is a good price for a SKLOORG?"
Ikea is kind of an amazing, all-encompassing experience, at once fantastic and horrid. Furniture! And hot dogs! And wheelie carts! And...did you know they sell thread?
Mostly I think Ikea is a good idea. Because how many times have you walked into a Crate & Barrel or Pottery Barn and looked at a $50+ price tag and said, "Oh, hey, see, I thought this was just a frame made out of regular old wood. I didn't realize this was one of those magic wood frames that's secretly lined with gold and aged by the teardrops of faeries."
Whereas at Ikea, that same piece of wood -- while lined with far more holes, sure -- is roughly $0.69.
Overall, I am not sure if I love or hate Ikea, or if I should just resign myself to the fact that it's a necessary evil in my life, mostly awful but occasionally awesome. Like American Idol.
There's always traffic getting there, and the act of searching for a parking spot, finding one, and herding into the store along with half the county has the feel of something exciting. You and the mostly unattractive crowd have come for miles and are trudging en masse toward...the state fair? The circus? Some amazing live performance you will tell your grandkids about?
You and 12,000 other people have traveled near and far to see if you can, maybe, hopefully, possibly, find two matching 300 lb. fiberboard cabinet doors in "walnut."
The move/unpacking is going awesome, in case you were wondering.
That's sarcasm. The move/unpacking has been a royal pain in the ass.