I have been to Ikea only once in the past and that was for a look. Since November 2015, it feels like Ikea has become a second home but not because I like it. It is RAF boy's version of heaven and he loves nothing more than looking around and then going for meatballs. I admit, the meatballs are great but the shop.....sob.
The first time RAF boy took me to Ikea, it was like being on the SS Enterprise at warp speed. He knows his way around so well that I was dragged along, bewildered, ducking and dodging. Kitchens flew past me, beds, settees, desks, double doors (for a short cut), bedrooms, dining tables and chairs, children, wardrobes (we had a brief stop here while RAF boy showed me a wardrobe he liked. I was overwhelmed at this point and trying to avoid the mad woman who insisted on opening all the doors on any wardrobe I stood next to.), stairs, candles, photo frames, lights, light shades that look like massive UFO's, plastic plants, warehouse, crazy people with trolleys, tills and then fresh air. To say I was dazed upon emerging from Ikea would be an understatement. What had just happened? I remember meatballs but then....a blur of furniture with RAF boy shouting incoherent names at me (I later found out that he was telling me the names of the furniture. Oh yes, that's right ladies and gentlemen, Ikea name their furniture).
We drove home and no more was mentioned of Ikea. I calmed myself with a furbaby cuddle and a sweet cup of tea. I settled down for the evening and put a film on. Bliss.
"Come on Red, we need to get a wardrobe". What? But, I'm drinking tea, cuddles, tea! I look over at RAF boy, sat at his computer. "I thought we picked one earlier? The one with the slidey doors?" I asked, hopeful. He smiled at me with sympathy and pity. "Yes, but we have to design it". I stare at him completely baffled. Design it? What's to design? It's a wardrobe. You normally find one you like and buy it. Inside it has a hanging bar and usually a top shelf. Some even come with shelves or drawers depending on which model you buy. What is this 'design'? We saw one, we picked one, job done.
RAF boy taps the seat next to him and I warily go over to him. I take a seat and there on the screen, is the wardrobe that we had decided to get. Why am I sat here? My tea, blanket, furbaby and film are over there waiting for me. What foolishness is this?
He begins. "Ok we need to choose a colour. Do you want white or black" I stare at him. I think about the bedroom. "White" I reply. Woohoo. I made a decision, now to order it and off to my film. I go to stand up. "Wait, we're not done yet". I stare at RAF boy and slowly sit down. "The frame and bits inbetween the mirror, what colour do you want those?" I stare at him as if he's lost his mind. I chose a white wardrobe with sliding doors, what more is there to do other than click the buy button? He continues. "You can have black, white, grey or aluminium which is basically silver. What do you want?" He looks at me expectantly. I stare back at him stupidly. He nods towards the computer screen to encourage me to choose a colour. "Um, probably grey or silver?" I look to see if this is the right answer, I feel like I'm being tested but for what I don't know. "Which?" he asks. He starts clicking on the two colours on the screen and I stare. He does it again and again. I look at him, dumbfounded. "There's no difference between them" I say. RAF boy shakes his head and sighs. He goes close up on the colours and tells me that there is. He does it again. I feel like I'm at the opticians where they ask you which lens is clearer but you don't know - "number one or number two. Number one or number two. Again, number one or number two." To me, the difference between the grey and the silver looks like someone has turned a distant light on somewhere and it has made one so very, very, very slightly lighter. I bite the bullet and go for it "silver" I declare. In my mind I do a celebratory dance and a lap around the block. Well, that's me done. I've chosen the colour and the silver thing, now to buy it and we're done.
"Now for the inside" RAF boy happily declares. He is loving this. I stare at him. "The inside?" I squeak. What has to be done on the inside? A hanging bar and a shelf. By the power of telepathy and longing looks, I indicate that my tea is getting cold and the furbaby needs a cuddle. "Oh, go and grab your tea so it doesn't get cold" he smiles. He thinks he's being loving and helpful. I am not sharing this viewpoint.
I stalk over, grab my cup of tea and stomp back to the computer, where I plonk myself down heavily to convey my displeasure. It goes completely unnoticed. RAF boy is staring longingly at the screen and madly clicking away on various objects. He goes to speak. I am filled with dread.
"I've got the hanging bars for the clothes. Do we have one in each side of the wardrobe or just in one side?" I can answer this one. This is easy peasy. I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. I will answer this question and then, obviously, we'll click on the buy button and we're done. "Both sides" I say triumphantly and make a move to get up. "Wait, we're not done. There's so much more to discuss" says RAF boy. "It's a bloody wardrobe. It has bars to hang clothes on, a mirrored door and a regular door. What more is there to do?" I ask, slightly irritated. He smiles patiently at me and waits for me to sit back down. The task begins and I feel like Alice down the rabbit hole.
"Do you want a shelf? In both sides or one side? How high up do you want the shelf? How high up do you want the hanging bars? How long is your longest dress? Shall we have an extending trouser rail? Do you want that below your dresses? Do you want drawers? How many? Wooden front, glass display front or both? Do you want a display drawer? You could display your jewellery. I could use it for my ties. Do you want soft close on the drawers? Do you want soft close on the doors? Shall we have a shoe storage area?"
On and on and on went the questions with me swinging between irritation, confusion, bewilderment and back to irritation. I just want a blimmin' wardrobe! "Yes to a shelf. Both sides? I don't know! Why? My longest dress? It's as long as me! I guess. Er....yes? Yes! Don't know. Umm...... What do I want a display drawer for? I have a jewelry box. You only have one tie. I suppose so. No, we have a shoe rack."
I lost the will to live. I lost hours of my life that I will never regain. I just wanted a wardrobe. Somewhere to hang my clothes. That's it. I never knew just how complicated it could be. RAF boy, however, loves it. He's deciding on screw sizes, fittings and fixtures, colours of rails, height (everything measured in millimetres), accessories such as storage boxes, drawer organisers and so on. I drank my tea, nodded, shrugged and looked mournfully across at the settee where my furbaby had made his bed in the blanket and was happily sleeping, contented snores emanating from him.
"Ok, I think we're done! Are you happy? Do you want any changes? Anything you want to add?" The barrage of questions bring me out of my sad longing for the settee. Did I want anything else? Dear Lord, NO! Just hit the buy button, please. He smiles, adds it to a list and I feel hope returning to me.
"When will they deliver it?" I stupidly ask. "Oh no, we have to go and get all the pieces ourselves and then assemble it". He's so happy. He loves doing this stuff. RAF boy sees another adventure to his heaven followed by us lovingly doing DIY together and having an amazing wardrobe at the end of it.
I see another scary trip to a store that I dare not enter alone unless I have a flare gun and a compass, followed by heaving heavy bits of furniture into the car and then into the house, followed by arguments and cursing by us trying to put it together and ending with some semblance of a wardrobe at the end of it and hurt feelings.
I go and put the kettle on and start to mentally prepare for the wardrobe adventure........
