Like most intense love affairs, they begin white hot and then soon enough, they fizzle out. Once again, it’s happened to me. It’s become unhealthy and it’s time…Ikea, I’m breaking up with you.
We had a good run of it. At the beginning, all of your little quirks seemed adorable. I cherished them. I was angered at anyone that would disagree with me or speak against them. “I think it’s precious that the mattress sizes are like none other I’ve ever seen and fit none of the linens I brought with me. The odd dimensions have character!” I loved spending time with you and your Escher-like layout. It was so easy to lose 16 hours strolling in a somewhat circular pattern and giggling as you passed by the rugs again, wondering how that happened because you know you were following the yellow floor arrows! How could I be mad at a store that offered an assortment of towel holders as well as Swedish meatballs?! And let’s not even start on the shopping carts and their magical gliding abilities.
But it’s happened. I’m sick of you. Really and truly sick of you. I don’t think it’s cute that you only offer fitted sheets and there is not a top sheet to be found in your entire expanse of a store. Where I once loved to meander around and gaze at your various living room options, I now grow furious at being forced to view 1,048 couches just so that I can buy one throw pillow. The yellow floor arrows now taunt me, sending me wherever they please. Your tiny bags of screws and pictorial assembly directions have put me over the edge of sanity. Even the magical shopping carts now careen dangerously into other shoppers and their throw rugs and wall art.
You will tempt me, of that I am sure. I will crave just one more “quick trip” down memory lane to get that TV tray that I foolishly passed by. I will discover that I bought the wrong size picture frame and just need just one more item…but we all know where it will end up. It’s simply not good for me anymore, so I bid you farewell. I think in time, the wounds will heal (literally the wounds on my heels, where other rogue carts crashed into me) and I will begin to remember the good times and feel thankful that I met you. Until then…
This little loveseat also doubles as a guest bed. Come give it a try!
