Ikea + 1s

There are certain things in life that you don’t like to do but that you must do.  IKEA on a Saturday afternoon in ANY country is one of these  things.  When you are a single woman, there are also certain things you must have that are essential to help you do the things that you must do but don’t like to do.  An IKEA+1 is one of these things.  Never attempt a trip on your own, it is a dangerous and ferocious home-assembly wilderness that can psychologically and physically damage you for life.

My friend and I are each other’s IKEA +1s.  I asked her to help me after the first time I went alone and tried to buy a bed and all the connected items in my non-existent second language and then got into a vehicle with an unknown Columbian man who didn’t speak a word of English and happened to be standing outside with a van.  It was only half-way home that it dawned on me that it may have been a foolish move as I could quite easily be driven off route, none the wiser because I had no idea where anything was back then, into the middle of nowhere and clubbed to death with a piece of 49€ pine bed frame.  So on my second trip Miss T came with me to get a replacement bed, as the first one had collapsed into a pile of tinder with some rigorous use, and after we arrived home, proceeded to put it together at 11pm under the influence.  There was nothing in the instructions to say we shouldn’t and I’m sure the neighbours were delighted.

This time we were going to purchase giant wardrobes for her that would, when constructed, lead her to a magical kingdom where a lion was God (or at the very least, get her bedroom organised).  While IKEA had comedy music playing we gave ourselves hernias for pleasure in the quest for self-fulfilment and used our own bodies as accurate tools for measurement.  i.e.  Once large, flat-pack wardrobe carcass is placed horizontally on trolley, lie on said  large, flat-pack wardrobe carcass to ascertain that it WILL indeed fit in your bedroom.  We grunted and groaned as we hauled lumps of wood 10 times bigger than ourselves onto the trolley and dragged it around the store to the admiring glances of numerous pecked and addled men (see below).  And while we stood sweaty and tired, but triumphant in the queue to book home delivery, my friend sang, ‘Independent Women‘ by Destiny’s Child……….

As an aside, IKEA is also a great place to learn incredibly valuable life-lessons, like, for example, how to keep a man (in terested/general/carcerated/some kind of obedient trance-like state.)  And also how to achieve greatness as a woman human.  These are the steps you must follow:

1.  Walk about with an obvious purpose, like you really know what you are doing.  When we all know that IKEA is a secret organisation taking over the World, masquerading as a cheap furniture shop, with codes almost as impossible to crack as the DaVinci one.  (It is REAL!)  If you do this, your addled man (see above) will follow like a puppy.

2.  Ensure you have impeccably manicured nails, a fancy handbag slung over your arm and are wearing tottery heels.  Practical attire for the IKEA warehouse.

3.  Point at things and say, “We need that”, “We want that”, “What do you think about that?”  All of this can be roughly translated back to, “I like it, we are buying it, pick it up now and place it right here on this trolley that I am also pointing at, but will not push closer to you to make things easier and/or help you in any way, shape or form”.

4.   Repeat step 3 repeating “That”, “That”, “THAT!!” while pointing a lot and walking about with purpose for approximately the next four hours, 37 minutes and 13 seconds, dragging addled man along for shits and giggles (and ALL the heavy lifting).

5.  Even if you have TWO trolleys of exceptionally heavy flat pack materials (what DO they make that stuff out of?), don’t help.

6.  Go to till and pay with addled, obedient man’s credit card.

If you follow these few simple steps, you will find the path to true relationship happiness.  I promise.

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3 thoughts on “Ikea + 1s

  1. Pingback: I do sometimes wonder | The Secret Diary of Anne Pank

  2. Pingback: Road to recovery | The Secret Diary of Anne Pank

  3. Pingback: My brain magic is evolving | The Secret Diary of Anne Pank

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