Where Does The IKEA Go?
I have lost large portions of my life in IKEA. I thought they were affordable. I thought, like human resources, they were my friend (I was wrong in both cases). The time lost wandering their misshapen aisles, if given a price tag, would be a bill Gates wouldn’t be able to afford. How did they do it? How did they make me walk through every level of their store pondering and fantasizing fervishly over every item? Hours were spent picking up pieces, trying to pronounce their names and discern their purpose. After discovering I had just walked in a circle three times, I picked up a Furgan rack (or is it a FOO-gan Rahk?), then put it back…TWICE. I was dancing in a bizarre IKEA ritual that I innately knew how to perform. I took the Ledertoken, pressed it against my face, imagined it on my bathroom floor, shook and then placed it into my yellow IKEA bag. Five circles and a diagonally dash later, I wondered how the Ledertoken got there. Had some IKEA employee, sneaking up behind me while I w
