“It’s like bed, bath, and WAY beyond…” – Eddy Ameen, on Ikea.
So Conci and Marc moved out today, which created a minor problem in that they owned all of our living room furniture. After some pleading, cajoling, prodding, and explaining the long term benefits of buying me furniture now, I managed to convince my very generous father to buy me a bunch of Ikea furniture, on the theory that if he buys me cheap furniture now, he will not have to listen to me bug him about buying me cheap furniture for some time to come.
Since Cleo and Katy both needed futons and Cleo also needed a desk and some other furniture, we rented a UHaul and went on out to the gigantic Ikea store in Schaumburg, Illinois, the flattest place on earth. We went there in search of cheapness and the o’s with the little lines through them (can anyone tell me what that’s called?) We found quite a bit more of the former than the latter.
My couch is called Grano, with an umlaut (the two dots are over the O), and without a picture online to show you. The problem with Grano is that the frame and cushions are sold seperately, and while there were plenty of frames, there were no cushions. This makes absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever.
If you were a giant Swedish furniture store, would it make sense for you to order less cushions than frames? Wouldn’t it make sense for you to order more cushions than frames, since some people are insane and buy emergency backup cushions in case someone spills a beer on their new off-white sofa just before Kofi Annan is scheduled to come over for tea or something?
But you are not a giant Swedish furniture store. You are reading my weblog, hence you are a human or a highly advanced species of dolphin with internet access. So they didn’t have the cushions, though they were supposedly having a large number delivered tonight. So I get to get up early on a Sunday, call to make sure the damn cushions came in, then drive all the way to Schaumberg to complete my couch.
And then, all will be well. Except now I feel kinda like Ed Norton’s character in Fight Club, living in the Ikea catalog. And that might not be a good thing, considering what happens in the movie…which if you haven’t seen it, you’re either going to go rent it now or just not get this, ’cause I’m sure as hell not going to explain it to you.