Ikea. Holy crap Ikea.

I love Ikea. I have loved Ikea since the one and only time I have ever been in one back in 2006 in Renton, WA where I semi-forced my friends to load into my rented, shiny orange Chevy HHR and set out on a strange, complicated trip on our self-proclaimed joke quest for Gorm, the token of all knowledge (imagine our shock when we discovered that Ikea does, in fact, sell Gorm. It’s a shelving unit suitable for books and thus all knowledge.) At any rate I dropped about $200 that day on sheets and bedding and slippers and a cd case and a ton of chocolate and some garden gnome note cards that I still have a few of. It was glorious. My friends were good sports and we dined victoriously in the cafe, thus giving me an insidious obsession with Ikea meatballs. The next summer when some friends went on vacation to Chicago I begged them to bring me back some drawer organizers and more chocolate and somehow ended up with those as well as the best knife ever. And then…no more Ikea. No one vacationed near one and the person I asked to stop and pick up something for me at the beginning of their trek east failed me. I thought I’d be living Ikea-less forever

Then a couple of years ago they announced that the Ikea gods were smiling on Kansas and were giving us our very own fancy Ikea. I was extra-excited to discover that this blue and yellow hall of awesome was less than fifteen minutes from my house, probably faster on days when I avoid rush hour. Steadily I saw it rise on the skyline and then they gave us an opening date: September 10, 2014. Now, I know I’m not the only Ikea fanatic. One of my best friends was texting me daily that Ikea was opening soon and wanted to plan an epic trip. The news was reporting people lining up for the opening day giveaways. I knew this would be insane so I resigned myself to waiting a week or so and going on some random morning in the hope that it wouldn’t be nuts.



I am weak. Immediately after work I decided to be insane and try to check things out. I told myself if I had to park in the overflow lot at the now-defunct Kmart or if there were lines and crowds upon entering I would turn around and leave. Just my good fortune that I parked right at the building and the only line was for the Ikea Family card sign-up kiosk and that was only because someone didn’t understand the concept of a touch-screen. I was in. And it was not crazy. And I was in my own personal Swedish-themed heaven. I spent about a hundred bucks on important things like new sheets, a coffee flask, bright pink slippers, a laptop stand, lots of bubbly cider, some candles, new hangers, and a big ass bag of frozen meatballs. My reluctant shopping partner turned into an Ikea fan within about the first ten minutes and that resulted in the nabbing of catalogs and a kitchen dreambook. I nearly wept with first world joy because I had been to Ikea.

And then I went back on Friday. For more sheets, new dishes, more candles, more of that tasty cider and to have dinner at the cafe. And I’ll be going back this Thursday with my over-zealous pal who is freaking out about the idea of getting new things and meatballs. It’s so awesome. Ikea is totally my Disneyland. I have no shame in admitting that I may have an Ikea problem, but I’m happy so it’s cool.

And you know what? This time I’m going to complete the quest for Gorm and buy those damn shelves.


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