There is something about Sunday (Or pseudo Sunday) Ikea shopping that captivates me. It's perfect... gays as far as my eyes can see, babies coming out of every pretend-apartment, the first timers revelling in the enormity of the whole thing. I love Ikea. Not only for its over-the-top size, but its cheapness. If you want to stay in the cheap but acceptable range of furniture... that can be glossed up with some features from the accessories section, lamps and throws... then it's the place to shop.
Even the big blue bags that make purchases laborous captivate my imagination.
Spending excessive amounts of money on furniture that isn't going to be used in the house that I live in is annoying. But spending time at Ikea is reward enough. Or so I am telling myself.
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