Sunday, May 30, 2010
Climbing Mt. Ikea
I am forty-seven years old. It has taken my entire adulthood to prepare for yesterday morning when I took a deep breath and walked into IKEA.
When you live in a small apartment in NYC, IKEA is commonly used as a sedative to be utilized at various turning points in life. Most common among them are:
1. You've decided to stop sleeping on the floor.
2. You've decided to stop sitting on the floor.
3. You realize that having a table to eat on is a good thing.
4. Jesus Christ, you're pregnant.
5. You live in 450 square feet with a husband, your baby and your dog...you need a miracle or you will shoot yourself.
IKEA has done more to extend the leases of thousands, if not millions, of New Yorkers living in untenable space situations than any act of public policy. So needless to say, I walked into IKEA with a bit of baggage....which is why I went to the IKEA in New Haven, CT.
It would have been far too mind tripping for me to go to Brooklyn. I would see too many versions of my past self, wandering through the aisles anxiously trying to find that miracle piece of furniture that would make it all work out. My space. My marriage. My mommyhood. My career. My dreams. All stuffed into 450 square feet.
IKEA would have driven that girl to tears.
I was on a different mission now. I needed a table. A huge table for the dining space in my little house in the woods. Would it shock you to learn that the dining room table I bought is as long as my bedroom in the East Village and just as cheap? There is enough surface area to reenact the Last Supper if necessary. We even bought chairs that were so light and inexpensive that I am wondering if they can endure the weight of an average human being....well, average American human being (add 20 pounds to the early calculation).
Will report back.