The IKEA trap…


Some things in life are inevitable. Life. Death. Taxes. A trip to IKEA. There were dark clouds overhead as we pulled into the car park. Vehicles lurking in every corner, desperate to bag that elusive space. The hoards huffing and puffing their way back to safety, carrying everything, including the kitchen sink. As the sky swelled and pulsated, so did the dread inside me. 

Don’t get me wrong, I think IKEA is a fantastic store. When it’s devoid of people. Try going along before the end of the school holidays and this Swedish homeware fairytale quickly becomes a Nordic nightmare. 

We had a list with us. You need a list. Excellent start. Now we just had to figure out how to navigate the labyrinth before us. Let’s just wing it. Escalator to the first floor. So far so good. Where do we get a trolley? Ground floor. Hmmm… ok, so lift back to the ground floor it is.

Twenty minutes later, we’re armed with our weapon of mass destruction. Now for the front line: The Shop Floor. Too. many. people. Too. many. items. Not. enough. space. I have to sport some serious Formula One moves in order to negotiate the sheer number of humans. It’s when I find myself standing staring at a wall of 20 different styles of toilet brushes that it all becomes too much.

The curtains department is interesting. People with measuring tapes abound. Mass confusion with the metrics, as my mobile phone goes into overdrive trying to work out the correct dimendions. Finally, we’ve got what we need. Hurrah! Now there’s just the small matter of the lengthy walk to the tills. When we get there, the man in front of me appears to be buying half the shop. I should point out that this all happened on a Thursday. Weekends?? *shudder*

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