We have a house full of IKEA furniture and I very much enjoy it. I understand it's fashionable to look down one's nose at it, and that's fine by me. It means less jostling in the checkout line when we go to the one in New Haven, Connecticut, where we start our shopping by hitting the cafeteria where it's praise the Swedish meatballs and pass the lingonberries, brother.
My idea of an evening hoot could be to sit on my IKEA sofa, watching my television which sits on an IKEA shelf, scarfing down a Big Mac after kicking off my rainbow Crocs. Some, part, or all of that sentence may be more than slightly embellished.
Or not.
And I think I've found just the mode of transportation for the next time me and the little lady (or more correctly, jag och den lilla damen) decide to take a jaunt down I-95, to Flatpack Heaven. Buckle up, buttercup.
-bill kenny
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