I’m sore because I shopped at Ikea. But that’s not even the most humiliating thing. My ability to screw up products that are widely agreed to be the easiest to assemble on the planet? No. The most upsetting and emasculating part of the whole outing: as predicted, it was entirely subsidized by my winnings at the Vegas craps tables.
After years of slogging and losing and barely breaking even, I have a lifetime run at the tables and what does it go for? A new DSLR that I’ve been coveting for ages? A new laptop to replace my battered and buggy G4? Nope. A rug. A loft for Bubba. A chest of drawers. Some decorative items.
Let this be a lesson to you all. If you finally win in Vegas, do not, in your euphoria, share the exact dollar amount with your spouse.
I may have said “baby needs a new pair of shoes,” but I didn’t mean it so literally.
Plus the outing turned into one of those “I wish I hadn’t burned my bridges” projects. Have you ever had that happen to you? You initiate some household project that has rippling implications just about two hours too late on a Sunday? Me exactly with the Ikea.
The lynchpin? I pull the seats out of the van. Once that step is taken, I am committed to get all the way to tucking the kid into his new loft that night. Did I mention that my parents were coming to dinner? Once I pull those car seats, I am committed to disassembling and getting out of the house the massive wooden bunk bed set, hauling out 40 miles to the “Austin” Ikea in Round Rock, dragging three kids through the rat maze, herniating myself on flat packs, assembling the bed, disassembling the bed, re-assembling the bed using the instructions, then, finally, putting the seats back in the van.
As a bonus, I get to do the last three steps with my dad “helping.” (Actually, I would never have gotten the thing together without him. Thanks, Bud.)
So it’s together. Bubba loves it despite the fact that it squeaks (which could be a problem in the teen years). We’ll put the chest together today so we can get his clothes off the living room sofa.
And I’ll take a Motrin for the sore back. I guess the Wii Fit hasn’t yet worked it’s magic.
Classic stuff DaddyClay. You keep me laughin’, particularly the “assemble, disassemble, re-assemble using instructions” bit.
You know what the worst thing is about Ikea?? False promises. Very, very false promises.
Every year the Ikea catalog shows up at our door, and I look through it and really start to believe that I too could have a sleek, modern, clean, chic house. I mean, have you seen their “home offices”? If you look at the pictures, it is immediately obvious that whoever uses that home office is clearly a much more productive, calm and efficient employee than yourself. Probably gets paid better, too. I start to believe that maybe if I invested in the Rhundig desk, that maybe I too would be on the road to zen.
But, in reality, that’s not how it works out, now is it…???
A zen master’s desk would be a rock in the back yard and he’d sit on the ground. You don’t want to be so zen. Just get a folding table and a beer tower faucet for some kegs. That’ll be zen enough and I don’t think they sell those at Ikea…
Oh Daddy Clay. I am so disappointed! As you know I decided to do my kitchen myself via IKEA. After assembling and installing 190 flat packs… I think I probably could have helped!! Say what you want – I have a LOT o’ IKEA in my house and my kids have yet to be able to break any of it!!