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I am forty years old and I have never been to Ikea.... until yesterday.
What I believed to be a simple expedition to pick up a couple display items in preparation for this weekend's show, became a trip down the rabbit hole; a kaleidoscope of conflicting thoughts and feelings and a deep inner struggle with my very soul... and wallet.
Oh the lights! mmmmm.... the display I could create, I was transported by the desire to light my table in a manner that even the band Great White would consider overkill. And then I would transform my studio space... I would never want to leave.... (well, to be honest, most days I feel like that anyway, but oh....) the majesty of its vision left me staring vacantly, blankly creating a human sandbar in the aisle around which the river of college students, gay couples and surprisingly young looking yuppie Moms with cadillac strollers had to flow around.
My only defense is that I have spent ten years of my life away from my native United States of America, living on a small island nation, where such a place was only a fable told to envious consumers. I like to think my state of being was in part, a lingering culture shock, an over saturation of my vulnerable senses unused to the intense exposure. Who knows, I will leave that for the psychiatrists to work out.
So here I am, decidedly weakened by our Chinese Overlords offerings. I can't help but realize that Tyler Durden would leave me on the porch forever for being so enchanted.
My only solace is I had the self-control to walk away only eighty dollars lighter.
and to think that Ikea's wares were once actually made in Sweden instead of China! Glad you made it out ok. I once emerged from the labyrinth after several hours with only four coffee mugs and half a dozen picture frames. I don't know how I did it.
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