I went to IKEA the other night. It was an hour before closing and I cavalierly thought I could just dash in and get the two things I needed and be out within 20 minutes. HA!
Have you been to IKEA, lately? The one I go to has changed its upstairs to resemble some sort of complex maze of kitchenware and sofas. Each time I turned a corner after following the happy, helpful blue and yellow signs bearing the hopeful message: "Exit this way!" I was confronted with yet another clever way to display my flugblava. I felt more and more twisted upon myself with each corner I turned. After about the 5th dead end/wrong turn I clutched my hair in futility and desparately sobbed: "I just want to see my family again!"
And that's how the helpful blond man in the cheery yellow shirt found me - a weeping heap stylishly arranged on a turgbloma. He threw me in one of those convenient big blue shopping bags and hauled my sorry ass to the exit.
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