Hell Is For Swedish Flat Pack Furniture Makers

Can you guess what we did yesterday?

Come on, it’s easy. I’ll give you a hint. It involved a lot of swearing, grunting and moaning about how hard it was.

Guessed it?

You guessed wrong.

We went to Ikea.

Ikea, your friendly neighbourhood furniture gigantor. Ikea of the legendary Swedish meatballs, cheap as chips hot dogs and other food, the nature of which proved quite indefinable. Ikea of so many things all at once, wrapped in a nice package of Nordic efficiency.

Or to put it in another way, Relationship Armageddon ™.

So, naturally, we went there, accompanied by Mr. ILB, who seemed more keen on inspecting the kitchens and getting the fuck out of there than we were.

As we zigzagged thought the maze that is, picking up the obligatory pencil and tape measure along the way, we eventually successfully located our desks and chairs and went to collect them. Interesting factoid for ya. The seats on our chairs were priced individually. Who in their right mind would buy a seat without the rest of the chair, I ask thee?

Anyway, that wasn’t even the worst bit.

The worst bit came later that day, sitting in our new room, trying to piece together one of two identical desks. The written instructions were absent and instead we were making due with pictures. Yes, pictures. Because it all makes so much more sense with pictures, doesn’t it?

It was a veritable feast of fucks, shits, cunting hells and swearwords the Swedish would positively frown at.

(I called my mother midway through assembling the desk and she actually said “I’m so sorry” when I told her what we were doing. Yeah.)

Eventually, the desk materialized. In between listening to his parents go on and on about their ideas for our room (I can’t WAIT to see the shelving ideas they apparently have for us), we placed the desk in its corner and dubbed it ILB’s workplace. Mrs. ILB, a self-proclaimed expert at flat pack furniture, suggested we take the second desk and assemble it at home. She did it on her own, and later declared that it was indeed much harder than she thought.

Fortunately, our relationship survived and we live to LoverBoyd another day. And we have two shiny new desks as a result.

Still. Ikea. GRRRRR.

ikeaGRRR

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6 Comments

  1. Ikea. Making relationships more real. hahaha

    Reply
  2. I love Ikea’s hot dogs, crazy Swedish food, candles and magnetic noticeboards 🙂

    Reply
  3. I’ve never actually been to an Ikea but I have put together some crazy furniture in my time so you have my empathy.

    Reply
    • It’s a unique and glorious world of Swedish efficiency coupled with palpitations of the heart and nerves oh the nerves. x

      Reply

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