Friday, May 6, 2011

IKEA: The Allen-Key to My Heart


Do the words 'Birkeland', 'Hemnes' and 'Malm' get you quivering with excitement? They do me. Does the sight of an allen-key make your heart race? Me too. I am obsessed with IKEA. Love it, love it, love it  to bits! I could spend several blissful hours in that Swedish Design Heaven. Hell, if I had my way, I'd pack up the kids and hubby and just move in. Everything so perfectly co-ordinated, the smell of the birch, all those wicker baskets and blissful storage solutions that hide a multitude of domestic sins (ie:  crap).


I'll tell you the secret of Family Happiness: " A Happy Wife = A Happy Life"














My love of IKEA reached manic-levels when I was pregnant to my first children. Armed with colour-coordinated textas and the IKEA catalogue I was circling away like a woman possessed. Waddling about with my industrial tapemeasure, taking measurements and tweeking floorplans. "We'll need wardrobes, bookshelves, tallboys, rugs, light fixtures, shelves, shelves, I NEED MORE SHELVES!!!!",  I ordered at my husband, who was nodding and cowering in a corner, no match for the power of IKEA. Hubby was wise enough to know that you don't argue with a hormonal pregnant woman, especially one who is carrying TWINS!!!!!


Give me an allen-key and I'm your girl! I speak-a the IKEA instruction-booklet language (definitely not understood by my husband). I feel the euphoria of an archaeologist deciphering hieroglyphics when I follow those picture diagrams. I love the twisting, hammering, aligning and the screwing and the Exhultation in Marvelling at the Finished Product (with NO BITS LEFT OVER!!!!) My family affectionately (!!!) have dubbed me 'Trucker Hands', an envious power with which I open the unopenable, lift the unliftable and break the unbreakable.

It has been said, that the state of your physical home is often a reflection of  your inner self. That being the case, then I'm a Walking Shambles. The IKEA showroom is how I'd love my House/Self to be: bright, clean, orderly, colourful and Swedish. Well, I can't do much about the Swedish bit but I do enjoy a good meatball or two (or dozen).

5 comments:

Jac @ Common Chaos Chronicle said...

Gold! A woman after my own heart. The hardest part about leaving Melbourne for me was the shopping and in particular, Ikea.
I have heard about the home reflecting your innerself before aswell, and in my case, this place is about to explode!!!!
It would not be a lie for me to say that when I was carrying my twins, my hubby banned me from the place. He reckons I am dangerous enough in there when shopping for myself, let alone for 2 little monsters aswell.....
Little does he know I have been checking out the catalog on my iphone4, mentally compiling a list for the next trip to Melbourne... Hehehehe!

Jessicats said...

Oh, Jacqui! IKEA cataloguing by stealth, I love it!!! Our poor husbands, they don't stand a chance! What a woman wants.... xxx

Ilja Oostenenk said...

I LOOOOOVVEEEE Ikea! I think that was the hardest part of leaving Holland where there is an ikea 'round every corner. Now I have to make it into a weekend away! the yearly mad is my playboy-I hide it under my matterss and smile and giggle and it makes me all fuzzy & warm inside. sigghhhhh..... a good thing I'm seeing it again soon.... and I have already convinced hubby we can go there as the dinners there are dirt cheap! ha-sucked in! xx

Jessicats said...

Hahahaa Ilja! Love the thought of the IKEA mag as your dirty little secret under your mattress, hidden away from your husband!! Yes, I share your guilty secret, my mag is in my bedside table drawer for easy access. It's a sad state of affairs where men get excited over Playboy and women resort to Ikea porn!!!!! xxxxx

Life In A Pink Fibro said...

I love the catalogue but hate the actual shop. I feel like I've walked into Hell and can't get out again. But the catalogue. Now that's a different story.

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