Yup, I just had to go back to Ikea. I swear I have a love, hate, hate even more relationship with that place. I wanted new bookshelves for the study, because I've been using these wire crappy things in the closet that suck, and so we went to Ikea to pick some out. No problem. Things in Ikea are still named things like "the Lak" and "the Kurfufl" and (I'm not kidding) "the Steve" and "the Jeff." They ran out of words in Swedish, and so moved on to English names. When they produce "the Shifter" I'm suing for copyright infringement. Well, I guess I'd better copyright myself first, but I digress endlessly. So we picked out the stuff, no problem, and then we decided to leave. That was the problem. It takes 15 minutes from the decision to leave that freaking place to the time you get out the door. You go up stairs, along the winding Hallways of Doom, through the Displays of Crap, past the Shortcut to the Green Room, through Kid's Ikea, down the stairs to the Marketplace, through the Heaps of Junk, to the Self Server Area, and finally to the Checkout. Turns out the Shortcut to the Green Room could cut off about 5 minutes from your trek. It doesn't say that though. It just says Green Room, not telling you that it is also closer to the Freaking Exit. Which is all you really want. It's all any of us want. All of humanity just wants Out of Ikea. In some metaphorical way we just want to escape. So we finally did, barely, with our lives (but not our wallets) intact.
The delivery guys came by today and now I'm getting ready to be the guy at the top of this post. For the Uninitiated, that is the international symbol for "WTF" that Ikea has put in their directions. Right next to that picture is this one, which is the international symbol for "Yeah, Right."
I haven't even tried to assemble the minor beast that I have purchased yet, but I'm assuming I won't be smiling if I have to call some guy about difficulty assembling my Krappi bookshelves.