Melinda June mentioned something about going to IKEA and I commented that I could never find my way out of the damned place.
When I was talking to Tanya today, we spoke of her love and my fear of the place. She loves their sensible pricing and functional everyday pieces (I have no idea if that's what she said because I just kept cracking jokes).
For a place run by dwarf Swedes (evidence - tiny pencils everywhere), it's pretty damned big. They do have some nice things in there but I resent the fact that even the cardboard display items in their living rooms are nicer than the real versions of some of that stuff at my place.
It's sweet of them to put a trail of paint splotches on the floor to help me stick to the path but I still manage to get confused and wander into the lampshade department every damned time . All I'm really here for is those free paper measuring tapes anyway. I mean, who'd ever get tired of measuring it, adding 2 inches and then moving on with their lives?
So just how do you get out of here? Sure, you could follow the smell of the 10 cent meatballs and glug but I prefer to walk through the shower curtains, into the metal container filled with the weird Swedish kooshball looking things and past the do it yourself farfenhoogen demonstration.
Before I leave and for my efforts at getting in and back out, I always feel I should buy something. More often than not, it turns out to be the big bag of tea lights, a tremendous value.
After that, it's a simple half day's journey across the larger than my subdivision parking lot and I'm back on my way.
I once thought of getting work there so I could understand it all better but I'm not the handiest guy in the world and I knew something like this would happen: