
Still, I come back again and again... no doubt, lured in by its Swedish siren song and catalogs.
It's like journeying to a strange principality, with its own rules and customs, both foreign and odd to those who didn't pick up the guidebook... or like reading signs... or following directions.
You know that you haven't left the country, but somehow you're no longer in your native land. Everything is written in a language that uses lots of ö's and you can eat for about 50 cents (but only if you like hot dogs).
Upon entering the store, you are greeted and presented with a map, but that's all the help you're getting. Just hope you don't have a question. Not answering questions is just one of the ways they keep their costs down and pass the savings on to you. *smile*
But don't let the low, low prices fool you. I very seldom walk away from that store with all my milk money intact. They didn't even have to bully it out of me. I just hand it over freely once I see how quaint life could be in 377 sq. feet. While we are not confined to 377 sq feet (THANK GOD), it seems to inspire me to fill all 2,000 sq feet that we do live in... with particle board, polyester, and plastic.
The one thing IKEA has going for it is that it's extremely kid-friendly, which I like... A LOT. Its spacious family restrooms, childcare, designated play areas throughout the store, extra wide elevators, and tantrum-friendly aisles almost makes up for the mass confusion at their lousy "self-checkout". Almost.

It is, however, one of the more amusing places in our area to take my toddler. I don't have to worry about him doing too much damage and if I happen to come home with a set colorful plastic plates with matching bowls and cups, well then, as the Swedes say, "utmärkt!" (translation: "great!")
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