My Two-Cents: Fuck Ikea

A few days ago, I walked into Ikea wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. Unbeknownst to me then, I was serving myself up like a lamb to the slaughter to the Ikea Gods — or Ikea Anti-Gods, since that is probably more realistic. I went in wanting a frame, bedside table, and lamp – and I left with the fuel to drive my passionate hatred of Ikea for life. Or at least until my short-term memory cycles and I willingly serve my pure-hearted home-decor-intended heart on a silver platter to be sliced and diced by the evil Ikea Demones who roam the storage rooms in Ikea-Hell. 

As aforementioned – I walked into Ikea with hope and a dream. A dream of three simple pieces of home decor to furnish my new apartment. I left in despair. Where had two hours of my life gone? It was as if it had vanished into thin air. In my two hours gobbled up, I had spent the majority of my time looking for a goddamn painting, only to find it was out of stock. If you’ve never been to Ikea, let me sum it up for you: upstairs is the “example” section; downstairs is the pick out the things you liked section; past that is the warehouse. It sounds simple – but in my experience, the longer you spend in the store the more it feels like trying to find a needle in a haystack. And sometimes that needle turns out to be nonexistent like in my case with the painting – which is a real pain (or needle) in the ass. 

My migraine-inducing stroll through Ikea handed me an epiphany – simple really is better. In a society focused on more, more, more – maybe we should be craving less, less, less. Minimalists get the job done with less headache. Ikea is the epitome of what happens when we get lost in the sauce and forget that minimalism is more than sufficient. Therefore, for the rest of 2024, I’m adopting a new attitude – Less is more. And fuck Ikea.