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 was ordering Swedish meatballs, placed the shaggy contraption in my bag? It didn't matter I had moved on to HusseWures, the Ledertoken was at a point of no return with other unpronounceable pieces of merchandise.
I had arrive at opening to avoid the rush. The early morning sun had glared against my eyes as I headed for the revolving IKEA entrance. Then it what only seemed like seconds later I found myself at closing. Standing outside of the IKEA loading docks, I was back in with the real world. I was like a lost child who had just been reunited with his parents after spending hours being questioned by strangers and then detained while loud announcements were made over an intercom. Why was it dark out?
A month later I realized how much time I had lost. My credit statement said I owed. I had wrenched with an allen tool. I think I had even read some Swedish instructions and they had made sense. I was really starting to feel bad. Then I had a visitor.
My friend entered my apartment and I began to feel better about my loss of time and the purchased IKEA pieces.
Guest: "What is that orange thing in your bathroom?"
Nonchalant Host: "It's a Ledertoken. It took me four hours to assemble."
Guest: "What is it for?"
Nonchalant Host: I don't know...I move it around sometimes."
Guest:"...cool. Where can I get one?"
After this visit, I find myself inviting everyone I know over to my apartment. Mostly, we spend all of our time together wandering from room to room, looking at my oddly colored decor. We wonder about its hipness and utility. Sometimes, we twirl in circles before heading off into the kitchen. Sometimes, if it gets late, my guests have to sleep over. I feel I am making much better use of my time now that I am out of IKEA and socializing.
If I can pull myself away from Hodercunk, I might take a shower soon. But maybe not, nobody seems to notice the smell.
Posted by Monkeyspit at April 2, 2003 2:17 PM