- curtains and curtain rod
- bed frame and mattress
- fitted sheet and duvet
- bedside table
- chest of drawers
- wardrobe
- storage boxes
- standing lamp
- wicker chair
- potted orchid
- approximately 873 candles
Things in my bedroom not from IKEA:
- a large pile of overdue library books
- the sunlight
What did I ever do without IKEA? I'll tell you -- Scott and I would drive his truck around the dumpsters of Chapel Hill picking up beer-soaked coffee tables and saggy couches. The result was a house that looked and smelled like the morning after a frat party, but it was either that or the Goodwill, and who knows what happened on those couches.
When I moved to Edinburgh the first thing I did was figure out how to get to IKEA. Gwen came with me on the momentous day, and I spent no less than three hours picking out throw pillows. It was glorious. I hurried home and called my mom to give her the update with so much enthusiasm that she was forced to roll her eyes on the webcam. It's just an IKEA, she said, not a good man with a hard upper body and a pickup truck. Maybe so, but if a good man with a truck is at the top of the list of Things That Matter, IKEA is not a distant number two. Followed closely by perfectly crimped bangs.
Nancy and I share many things in common; including but not limited to our alma mater, a private worship of Ryan Atwood, and an unnatural fixation on Roland Mouret's necklines; but it is our shared obsession with IKEA that really sealed the deal. One of our favorite things to do on a Saturday is go to IKEA. It is always a full-day affair and starts with lunch of Swedish meatballs and Daim chocolate at the in-store cafeteria:
There's something about entering the market hall with an empty shopping cart and a belly full of meatballs that makes me feel like a set of ASPELUND stacking bowls is the answer to all of life's problems. Whoever designed the flow of IKEA stores is a flipping genius.I have a really hard time leaving the kitchen section without cramming four catalog pages-worth of flatware into my cart. That's why it's important to have Nancy with me. As we descend the steps into kitchenalia she invariably grabs my arm and says FOCUS. YOU ARE IN THIS FOR THE WIN.
They whet your appetite with the kitchen section only to elbow you right in the face with home textiles. In the Edinburgh IKEA you turn the corner and BAM -- acres of glorious Scandinavian textiles unfurl before your eyes. Swathes of gorgeous fabric drape from every corner and there is an entire wall of coordinating throw pillows. It is usually at this point when I start to black out and face-plant into a carton full of ALVINE FLORA cushions. This is, again, when it is handy to have Nancy with me. She revives me with talk of coordinating bed linens, and we soldier bravely on.
If I am still conscious after storage solutions, shelving units, and lighting, I find myself deaf and mute in the picture frame department. Nancy is somehow impervious to the evil lure of so many matching frames and skips happily around comparing various styles while I sit listlessly on a display chair in the middle of a mock living room. This brief respite is the last gasp before the cruel final lap: candles.If I haven't succumbed to the IKEA machine by now, the impossibly chic Scandinavian overlords make it utterly herculean to leave without buying at least one hundred candles. I am not exaggerating. Here is photographic proof. Can you see my glassy eyes of cold, dead fear? I'm trying to decide between 3000 candles for 2 pounds or 180000 candles for 4 pounds.
At work last week I told Kenneth that Nancy and I went to IKEA on Saturday. "Did you buy candles?" he asked. I shamefully admitted to the 200 tea lights sitting in my kitchen. "Why do women always buy candles at IKEA?" he asked, "you have electric lights. Stop with the candles!"At that point our jewelery specialist Clare walked in. Turns out she was at IKEA on Saturday as well. "Did you buy candles?" asked Kenneth, to prove his point. Clare stopped what she was doing, turned around, and looked at him incredulously: "Wait, what? DID YOU SEE US THERE?"
