Ikea in T-minus 7 Days

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What do us country mice think about on the regular? I can tell you what has been on my mind more than anything this past month: a looming trip to Ikea. Yep, nothing scarier than mingling with the city mice. And possibly getting trapped there forever…

We’ve been planning a trip to Ikea with my parents to help them pick out cabinets for their new house (our future retirement home, woot!) and the trip is looming closer. The last time we went to Ikea was when we were building our current house and I *literally* freaked out and started frantically putting things in our basket because they were dirt cheap and because, really, who doesn’t need three woks? By the time we made it to the checkout I was a zombie, sluggishly adding silicone fun-shaped ice-cube trays to the basket – hearts, stars, and seahorses? Don’t mind if I do. As we loaded up the flat-bed trailer for the trip home, I felt an overwhelming sense of mental and physical abuse that I can only assume is similar to “something” undoubtedly experienced by certain adolescent sheep on a lonely mountainside in New Zealand. Ugh. No wonder I have been having a recurring nightmare that we go to Ikea, suffer through some sort of massive, meatball-deep-fryer explosion, and end up encapsulated in a warehouse full of perfectly divided and painfully efficient furniture and housewares. And, of course, enough Swedish meatballs to (unfortunately) survive for a very long time.

…I guess the only thing that could be worse is getting trapped in the adjoining warehouse with all of the unassembled furniture boxes….yikes! Wish me luck!

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