The LA and I piled into my Swedish automobile today for a little jaunt. Along we went, reaching the lovely paradoxical stretch of freeway that is 80 East/580 West (and which actually goes roughly North) and swung off for Ikea. Yes, the land of furniture you make yourself, strange unpronounceable names (with the odd utterly perfect one, such as the Sitta seat cushion) and meatballs. Through long corridors we toiled, arriving eventually at the checkout with a stupendous expenditure, which effectively eats our returned damage deposit from the previous place. However, what we got is rather good at improving our prospects of liking this place.
Here's the list: Two chairs which go by the name of Ivar. Cushions for same, named Ritva. Four folding chairs named Terje. One kitchen cart by the name of Bekväm, which I carefully assembled wrongly (at a right angle to its intended construction, since that fits our space better). A Fixa toolset, to summon our screwdriver from wherever the heck it's gone. A roller blind for the kitchen window, named Isdans. And two bookcases named Billy, and one named Expedit, for storage.
I don't get how people can have such hatred for Ikea assembly instructions. They're about the clearest I've encountered, and make it very hard to fail. They certainly seem to be clearer than the instructions on urinal cake holders; I had to use the restroom at Ikea twice, and in both restrooms, the urinal cake holders were upside-down! That's only part of the reason I'm not a fan of Ikea restrooms, though; they also feature the dreaded blowers. These things make a lot of noise and leave you damp-handed. Sorry, paper towels for me!