Until now. Until I was apparently so under its spell that I even let Rick take this weird picture of me.
You could get lost in that place. In fact, we did get lost in that place. (Okay, I got lost in that place. Rick notoriously knows exactly where he is going in any given foreign land while meanwhile I am unknowingly wandering into places like the men's bathroom.) But in addition to the fact that Ikea is just a giant monstrosity of a store,we spent far more time than necessary there because the closest one is 5 distant hours from our house. So do we buy things because we won't be back soon? Or do we not buy things because we can't be back soon, eliminating all potential for returns?
In the end, there was plenty that caught my eye, but I exercised credit card restraint and bought only a ceramic planter and 3 yards of fabric in the name of "cheap household accessories," and two Karlstad armchairs in the name of "we actually do need things to sit on." And it's a good thing we didn't buy more than that, because this is what appeared when we went to pick up our chairs:
Did I mention that our vehicle of choice is an Elantra? That was already full of our suitcase, our cooler, and other random items absolutely necessary for travel, like this hideously ancient gallon of paint?
Creative piling ensued. We ripped open the boxes and stuck a leg here, an arm there.
I may submit this post to Awkward Family Vacation Photos.
Rick wasted no time putting our contraband together when we got home, and Gingerbread wasted no time trying them out in all of their various partially-put-together stages.
I think she approves.
We also approve, because now our guests don't have to sit on the floor.
Fun-ish fact about these chairs: Rick was actually the one to find them and say "We should buy these!" (Note: this is partly because I personally spent my time in the store being lost near a urinal.) Our rule for large purchases like this is that we both have to be on board, but usually it's me doing the convincing and not the other way around. I'm pretty sure he'll be congratulating himself for the next month or so on picking out something that I, the ever-picky shopper, actually approved of. (Maybe allowing me to get lost was part of his master plan?)
So our maiden voyage to Ikea was pretty fun (Rick even admitted to enjoying it, and not because of the free lunch we got for spending more than $100) but I think I am glad we don't live closer to one, mainly because I might enter and then not re-appear for several months. I seriously expected it to be snowing when we exited.
Do you remember your maiden voyage to Ikea? Did it involve the men's bathroom? Are there any remaining Ikea Virgins on this planet, or were we the last of a now-extinct breed? Are you wondering why I'm asking so many questions? Me too. Over and out.