Damn you and your irresistible flat-pack allure!

I went to Ikea. Take that, 40 Before 40! I may arrive at my next birthday just as jiggly as my last one but I will have been to Ikea and you can't take that away from me.

C and I secretly ran off to Ikea this morning (yes, we went on a Saturday to a newly opened megastore...) to get the bed of A's dreams... made from top quality "Fiberboard, Acrylic paint, ABS plastic, Paper, Particleboard" and soon-to-be custom allen-wrench-assembled by Mr. K (who swears A owes him a 6-pack of microbrew, bought with her own money).

We drove for an hour, reached the blue and yellow mystic portal to cheap and chic living, navigated the crazed parking lot and, without intending to - this time - jumped the 10-15 minute line JUST TO GET IN, and landed in the middle of a warehouse that makes Sam's Club look like the corner grocery store. C and I rushed to the kiosk that tells awestruck small town folk how to get to the ODDA aisle, grabbed an industrial-size cart, and found every single component of the bed of dreams:

She'll be using the trundle (plus sheet of plywood) as her Lego table (which will slip neatly under the bed when not in use... because Ms. Packrat von Messycakes is turning over a new leaf ??).

Anyways, given how hard it was to maneuver our cart full of really freakin' heavy and loaded by me bed parts, we decided to check out and load our mega-sized Scandi score into the trusty minivan (with all back seats removed/stowed) before going back in to find the bedlinens of A's dreams. Loading went better then expected and a nice man offered to help when I had only one box left. I appreciated the kind gesture (it's always the older guys... some kind of "I should be a gentleman" thing must kick in somewhere around age 55) and although he smashed my finger something fierce while helping, I held in the yelp and thanked him for his kindness.

So, we decided to run right back in and get the bedlinens and then stop by the restaurant for some kind of lingonberry slurpee or whatever they sell. When we got back to the entrance, we were told that we would have to go outside and walk around the building in order to experience the joy of waiting in a 15 minute line in the blazing sun in order to get back in. Now, I get that they need to manage the crush of slipcover fanatics but I JUST DROPPED SOME $400 ON PARTICLE BOARD SO PLEASE THROW ME A BONE SOMEBODY! Just then, we saw some people going onto a distant elevator, so we acted like we were walking back to our car in disappointment, and as soon as we were out of sight of the Ikea line enforcer, we made a bee line toward the elevators where I heard another enforcer saying that they were only for use by people who "needed assistance". So, what did I do? I found a family in the parking garage with a somewhat elderly woman with them who was trying to decide if she could handle the hike and the wait. Being the kind (scheming) person I am, I walked up to the family and said "follow me, and pretend we're family members" and we walked to the elevators where the savvy granny hammed it up a bit and I said, "she needs assistance and we're afraid we'll get separated if we don't go in together.

...and my new family and I were golden.

We got trapped for a while in the showroom which is separate from the warehouse and arranged not unlike one of those "how smart is the rat" mazes that always seem to be the centerpiece of mad scientist labs in movies. (Verdict: C and I are very very stupid rats.) We looked for the happy bedotted blue bedcovers of A's dreams and found them to be out of stock. Not surprising considering everybody and their hipster brother have been scouring the shelves 24-7 since the end of last month but disappointing nonetheless.

But then we couldn't find our way out (stupid, stupid rats...). So after making a few impulse lamp purchases and trying to figure out where to hang one of those mega huge Maskros lights (since the smaller ones are WAY out of stock), grabbing some rainbow-hued plastic drinking cups, and finally seeing daylight through the vast checkout lane madness, we made our purchases, decided to forgo the line at the restaurant (I'm sure I was supposed to put an umlaut in the word "restaurant" somewhere... I swear, Ikea, I will learn your language as we get to know each other better) got back to the van, and C said "I feel like we just got back from an exhausting family vacation and we're in the garage at DIA." Except, you know, we never pop for covered parking at DIA and I was darn sure I hadn't been to the beach at all.

So, here we are, back at home, sadly devoid of lingonberry-stained teeth, watching the happiest, most surprised little girl in the whole wide world stare at the fortress of yet-to-be-assembled treasures. I can't wait to go back during the week when the kids are back in school to spend a little more time looking around at a time when I might be less likely to wish for an active prescription for some real nice meds.

Please now, take a moment to say a little prayer to the assembly gods. Mr. K's gonna need it.