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copyright ©1999-2004 |
Last Wednesday, the boy and I celebrated our third anniversary -- by assembling our brand-new Sultan Alfta IKEA mattress base. My relationship with the boy, I'm pleased to report, is as happy-lovey-good now as it was the day we first started seeing each other. But me and IKEA? That's another story. IKEA and I go way back. Through magazine mentions and catalog photos, I fell in love with IKEA long before an actual IKEA store was within my reach. I'd been living in Tucson, you see, a city far, far away from the civilized IKEA-accessible world. But when my brother moved to Los Angeles, which had always seemed to have more than its fair share of the big blue-and-yellow megastores, I figured I had the perfect excuse: spend some quality time with the sib, make a pilgrimage to a place I had long drooled over in pictures. That trip to IKEA was like your first visit to Disneyland when you're a kid. Everything seemed so big and so cheery, so cleverly designed and sassily color-coordinated, and as I wandered around from one showroom fake bedroom to another, I wanted to move in right then and there, or at least transfer the entire contents back home. Sadly, space restrictions in my hand-me-down Volvo sedan withstanding, I had to make do with a few souvenirs instead: a space-efficient rotating bathroom cabinet, a ceiling lamp that I planned to use along a narrow hallway wall, plus two absolutely essential placemats in the shape of a giant eye, if by essential you mean totally not, of course.
---------------------------> lounge . nourish . host . laze . home. |
