IKEA…where memories are made.

So I hadn’t been to IKEA since I was 5 years old. My memory of IKEA, is happily sucking on a toffee apple whilst sitting in the trolley. Last weekend, 20 years later…. I returned to IKEA. It was very different this time around. My sister called me mad. My dad called me an idiot. But, yes, I went to the new IKEA Tempe store (opened 3 weeks ago) on a Sunday afternoon. Probably not the most ideal time. Every pregnant lady and her hormonally charged emotions was there. It was like being on the set of a Bold & Beautiful episode. Domestic arguments in every aisle. Classic quotes I overheard; Young girl to her boyfriend; “Of course, you and your mates would like that lamp. It is U-G-L-Y. Just like you. Seriously, I just can’t do this anymore” (by ‘this’ I am unsure if she was referring to IKEA or her relationship). Another classic; the domestic argument in the sofa area- wife to husband: “Just vis- it, please just vis-it”. Husband: “What the hell is vis-it”. Wife: “it means.. visualise it, you idiot”. The drama was amazing. I wish I had popcorn. My BF and I had a few small arguments. Mostly about his inability of ‘furniture language’; “This would fit my apartment decorem perfectly”. Its “decor” not “decorem” or his lack of prioritisation; “Look Nix! A whiteboard with magnets… I can write stuff to myself” My response: “Stop being an idiot – You need a dining table, a couch and a coffee table first”.

One of my passions is furniture. I love it. It’s the reason why I went to Sweden a couple of months ago. No, I didn’t venture to the IKEA store there. I’m not THAT stupid. I did however, lovingly stroke a lot of swedish furniture – trying to convince Jai, I could sit with it on my lap on the airplane. In all honesty, driving into IKEA’s 3000 space carpark, I thought that this experience was going to be a real test on our relationship. I envisioned dragging Jai around like a small child. I envisioned myself taking charge and helping him choose everything. I envisioned myself, getting frustrated at him for not focusing or losing interest.

Quite the opposite happened.

I didn’t understand why you had to walk through the entire store, even if you only wanted a light bulb. I felt like a rat in a maze. Herded into each area. Disorientated. I didn’t understand the process of writing down ‘item numbers’. It’s a clever concept and its no wonder, IKEA are doing so well. After 3 hours, I started transforming into my 5 year old self. I was hungry – wanted chocolate and needed to go to the bathroom. I became delirious. It even crossed my mind – Were these ‘test toilets’ were functional? It was then that the real shopping began. The storeroom. Aisle after aisle, full of  flatpacked boxes. Racing to an aisle only to find the ‘out of stock’ sign.

The backs of my ankles were bruised – thanks to the continual trolley ramming by other shoppers. My biceps burned – thanks to my lack of trolley ‘control’. Finding out the final cost of all these items was hard. Finding the exit out was even harder. Trying to squash x12 flatpacks plus chairs plus many ‘accessories’ into Jai’s small Toyota was impossible. But we did it. We had survived. Pretty sure we did a small high five. Putting together flatpacks is another issue altogether. I’ve heard many stories of couples going into therapy over IKEA flatpacks. I was not ready to embark on the ‘flat packing’ journey with Jai yet. I opted out. I cant’ tell my left from my right (no joke). I can’t tell a screw from a nail. I wasn’t going to be much help. That didn’t stop Jai -he pulled out his (very cute) toolbox (full of ‘tools’ he has collected over the years) and the next day started assembling.

Admittedly, I got to give the guy credit. He remained calm throughout our IKEA shopping experience…..and literally put together x12 IKEA flat packs in no joke, 48 hours. I was in shock. He did a brilliant job.

Maybe we should apply for the Block or renovators…or then again…maybe not.