This evening I am going to IKEA to finally sort out the unresolved table situation at home.
As avid readers of this blog will know (all 7 of you) I purchased a table some weeks ago. A table for the vacant corner of my sitting room, on which I will place my laptop and will use to pen my ramblings.
And in typical IKEA style the table was missing a leg and it currently lies unfinished on the floor .
IKEA has to be the most soul-destroyingly unpleasant shop in the history of shoppery.
For starters that monstrous blue and yellow warehouse, it is housed in, hardly screams the sleek lines, practicality and modern minimalism I expect of Sweden.
Then there is the frustrating layout – so vast is the store that you are forced to follow the arrows to exit the damned place – and those canny Swedes have designed it in such a way as to force you to walk through the entire store meaning you are more likely to pick up unrequired bits and pieces en route. Clever I know, but I resent this immensely.
At the best of times I loathe shopping. More than any other activity it stresses me out. All that choice melts my brain. Consume, consume, consume. If I want to buy a pair of shoes or an item of clothing I generally pick up the first thing I see and sprint to the till to get out of the shop as fast as my stubby little legs will carry me. If I pause I am lost, my brain turns to mush and I can dissolve into a puddle of sweat, and spend 10 minutes with competing items in my hand unable to make my mind up what to buy.
I rarely go shopping. Food shopping is surprisingly easy – probably because it is so much more regular..
Clothes shopping or household shopping is a less frequent activity and I will generally stock up, when I engage in it, purely to reduce the frequency of said shopping expeditions.
And if the shop is busy or there are sales on, then I think I would probably even prefer to listen to a Mariah Carey album than attend.
Which brings us to IKEA. On a Sunday. During the January sales.
I had just moved house. My friend kindly offered the use of both her car and driving skills to assist me in the purchase of some household furniture and furnishings. I could hardly refuse.
It was as grotesque an experience as you can imagine.
Most hellish was the 15 minute wait to get out of the shop. The escalator was broken meaning that the throngs of people with their trolleys – myself included – were obliged to wait for the lift to get out.
And of course when I got home I discovered that a table leg was missing.
Today is Wednesday. And today I venture back to the warehouse from hell. I do hope it is calmer this evening.
If it is, I may treat myself to some Swedish meatballs to reward myself.