Saturday, July 23, 2011

Ikea makes me cry.

This might sound like a dumb story, but maybe if I write it out and am able to laugh at myself for it, it won't seem so here goes.

I've always loved shopping alone. I'd much rather go to the mall or Target or wherever by myself than with friends or anyone (though I do enjoy shopping with friends). I love having free time to wander around Sacramento and see what I can find. So today I decided to go to Ikea to pick up some things for my new apartment.

Firstly, I was proud that I found my way there without getting lost and ending up driving through the ghetto (this happens more often than I'd like). I was very excited about this Ikea trip, because they have tons of great things for cheap.

However, I can promise you I'll never step foot in an Ikea alone again.

The upstairs 'showroom' is a suffocating, confusing, anxiety-attack-inducing maze that traps you. I spent a good half hour following the little black arrows on the floor that promised they'd lead me safely downstairs, only to realize they had me going in circles and weaving back and forth unnecessarily. I COULD NOT FIND MY WAY OUT. It was terrifying. Cue panic attack #1.

Finally, I found my way to a bizarrely shaped staircase that led me downstairs to all the giant aisles of boxes of furniture and such. I found my tables that I wanted, no problem. Then I realized there was no way little ol' me was carrying these two giant boxes to checkout. So I went on a search for a cart-thing....and there were no in sight. After a good 15 minutes of searching (cue panic attack #2), I found one, loaded my boxes, and checked the hell out of that place....only to realize I left the $3 silverware set (that I REALLY wanted) on a box when I was trying to load my giant coffee table onto my cart.

It sounds dumb, but the entire time I was stuck in IkeaHell, I felt the lonliest I've felt in a long time. Nobody else was there alone, they all had their cute little significant other to help them navigate the scary store and pick up heavy boxes and push the dumb carts. I wanted nothing more than to have someone with me. Of course, I was texting The Fiance during this experience, but tried to not let my probably ridiculous-seeming feelings be too obvious for the sake of seeming independent enough to go to freakin Ikea by myself.

But you know what, I can still be an independent woman who just happens to cry in the Ikea parking lot out of pure frustration. I'm also one who now knows not to go to big trendy, scary stores alone!

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