Well, it’s two weeks today since my last post. So, for fear that this will become yet another me-like idea that dies in the bottom because time escapes me, I am trying to focus some time each week on writing for ‘Gilpies’. Unfortunately, once again I haven’t done much, nothing of great cultural import by any stretch. But as I outlined in my last post, there is always a bit of interest in the everyday, and last Saturday I did have that most intense of life’s experiences, a trip to IKEA.
My friend J and I had discussed going a few weeks ago, but I got the guilts about leaving my masters work for the day, and so rainchecked to focus on my studies. But, I have now moved well past the point of studious to avoidance of study by any means possible and so was very happy to use the IKEA excuse this time around.
In reality N and I have needed to buy a fold-out couch for a few months now. We have lots of interstate dwelling friends, sisters in Melbourne and Sydney and my Mum lives in Tasmania, so there is a need for a spare bed. We previously had a double bed in our spare room, but the space it required meant that it was basically a scramble across the bed to access the door, so we gave this to N’s parents about two months ago. Since this giveaway my Mum has come to stay twice and we have inhospitably sent her north to stay with my Granny, or told her that a mattress on the floor, or a night in a hotel would be a good option!
We had looked at a range of other sofa bed/day bed styles to avoid the IKEA route, but our fold-out couch budget is minimal, so IKEA really is the last man standing for a purchase under $500. So, Saturday morning rolled around and J picked me up at the nice IKEA crowd-avoiding time of 8:30 and we embarked on our journey, Logan bound.
When I was doing my hair that morning I thought about the day ahead, and wondered at my decision to partake in this experience. I have panic attacks when I get stressed. Lately, there has been a wealth of things stressing me out, so the number of panic attacks has skyrocketed. On IKEA day I wondered, could this be the day I finally lose it, could IKEA be the trigger to take me from panic attack to full-blown breakdown?
You see, the thing is with IKEA trips they always seem like a good idea in the beginning. As well as being mates J and I work together and had actually discussed our journey for a few days. When the trip was days away I had rose coloured glasses on and raved about the cheap cafe, with quality Swedish meatballs, the gorgeous fabrics, the bargain plant section and the yummy Swedish food section which greets you once you’ve been through the major check outs, just before you exit the IKEA domain. We laughed together saying that we could basically we could get everything we ever wanted at IKEA, no need to go grocery shopping this week - we’ll fill our cupboards with gravalax, cranberry sauce and other Swedish delights.
Once ‘I-Day’ arrived the rose coloured glasses began to crack. In saying this I was still looking forward to the adventure, hanging out with my friend and sorting out this couch business once and for all. Things started well initially. We discussed our potential purchases, were prepared with catalogue in hand and pages marked, and both wore relatively comfortable ‘shopping shoes’. We had thought that we would have an early lunch about 11ish, but when we arrived I was seduced by a sign that advertised a ‘full breakfast’ for $2.50, so we cafe’d first.
Hmm, $2.50 breakfast, yes, you guessed it – cheap fatty bacon, lard ridden hash brown, dried out fluoro yellow scrambled eggs and lips and asshole pork sausage – all for that one low price of $2.50, add a push-button machine made cappuccino and there’s breakfast for $4.50. I knew it would be foul even as I ordered it. I had to have it though. $2.50 breakfast, I couldn’t turn it down - even if it gave me food poisoning, even if I could never ate bacon or eggs again, the bargain made me do it. J looked at the cafe options and went for the much more sensible choice of a pastry and coffee. But, while she made her choice she was basically bowled over by the obvious IKEA cafe regulars whizzing their trays about with no time for learner drivers.
As I shovelled the fluoro eggs into my mouth (not looking at them for fear that bile would rise in my throat) I looked around and made a note to myself that I must go to the gym that afternoon. It’s like when you go to airports and suddenly realise there really is a fat epidemic in Australia. I actually think many of the cafe clients weren’t actually at IKEA to shop but this was their Saturday breakfast out, they came to IKEA with the family for a nice cheap breakfast treat, you could seriously feed a family of four twice over for under $20. No judgement, no judgement.
By the time we finished our breakfast I think both J and I were a bit dubious about the trip ahead, but we ‘sucked it up’ and went forth. In reality, we got through it all very quickly. I found the couch, she found some new rugs for her puppies’ bed. We bought a few unnecessary extra items, but were generally quite restrained.
Towards the back of IKEA is the fabric section, which is truly fabulous, great colours and prints – very bright Marimekko-esque designs. J was good and refocussed, choosing some beautiful fabrics to make cushions. I on the other hand had lost it by this point, I was ready to crawl onto the fabric-cutting table and dream I was in a much more peaceful place. Post-fabric we looked through a few more sections then entered the store room and put the couch pieces on the trolley to make forth towards the check out. Any notions we had of shopping at the Swedish food store had flown out of IKEAs sliding doors by this point. Instead I hightailed it to the delivery centre, organised couch delivery for the next day and then we departed, without looking back.
IKEA you’ve now done your dash for another few years. Hopefully it will be a fair while before we require a new table, or set of outdoor chairs, and by that point I will have forgotten you and your all-consuming ways. You entice me in with your plethora of cheap goods and then you suck me dry, like the blood sucking leech you are. I always look back on the experience wondering why I ever came to visit you again because you actually represent everything I hate about the way we live today. You trick people into buying more stuff they don’t need – luring us with your economy and selling us goods built for the short term so that we are forced to return to you year after year to buy more. But I do it, I always come back for more.
