Swedish for __________?

Oh Ikea, how I hate to love you.

Once again, as I have embarked upon yet another move I found myself weaving through the furniture clad maze of this Swedish gem. Because really...where else is there to go? Ikea seems to have a monopoly on decent ish affordable furniture, which was exactly what I needed. This time I was on the hunt for a dresser, one that screamed COLLEGE GRAD, but wasn't completely selling out on my craaaazy personality, and could handle the ridiculous amount of clothes I own. Almost every single time I go to Ikea, I immediately regret it. Why? Well to start; they have EVERYTHING you need, and then a THOUSAND other things you never even knew existed, but now that you have discovered them, you suddenly need. I mean the person who created the layout is an absolute genius. If you aren't stealth enough to know the secret shortcuts, you have to walk through the entire store, where you inevitably decide that what you really need is a cartoon shaped, hot pink loft bed with matching desk...or is that just me? Not to mention, finally after you have frantically scribbled down all your aisle and bin numbers for the products, with your tiny golf pencil,  you have to walk through that god damn marketplace. Fifty cents for a drinking glass? How can you say no? I'll take ten! I guarantee everyone comes out of there with something they never intended on buying. Guilty: today we left with not only a "grown up" dresser, but also with a ficus tree. Who knew?

 Then of course, once you get home, you have to put everything together. This I suppose is just what you get for wanting cheap furniture. Conveniently the pieces to the desk you just bought came in five different cardboard boxes, which you now have to open and sort if you have any hope of figuring this thing out. Then there are the directions. Oh the directions! In an effort to not have to print out manuals in eight hundred different languages, Ikea directions contain only pictures. This is apparently supposed to make it idiot proof as well. What I actually think it does is make it so only idiots can put it together. It could very well be me over analyzing everything, but I really struggle with those pictures. Pictures can easily be interpreted in different ways, whereas in my mind words are much more straight forward. I'm sure it looks ridiculous watching me pick up every piece and examining it next to the drawn out directions to make sure it is the correct shape and size. I honestly don't think a little wordage would hurt anyone...just sayin Ikea, just sayin. And lastly there is that fucking allen wrench. That fucking allen wrench which is the key to all that is made by Ikea. It's always a good time putting giant pieces of furniture together with that dumb miniature sized tool.  Well what's even better than that, is when you're moving three years later and you can't find that fucking allen wrench anymore. Thank god I have a set of allen wrench shaped tips for my screw gun. Of course none of those fit exactly right, because where would the fun in that be if they did?

 One thing I always loved about Ikea was their delicious and ultra affordable fro yo. Only a dollar! Dollar cones of fro yo are a powerful thing. They can make you forget the madness you just ensued upstairs, beating people down for that last light birch malm bed frame. One lick of that cold yumminess and I remember why I keep coming back to this store. Unfortunately on this particular trip, Ikea had to rip this one joy away from me. Since my diagnosis as a  glu-tard, I can no longer eat the cone that the fro yo comes on. Sad, because sometimes that is the best part. Anyway I went up to order asking if I could just get my cone's worth of fro yo in a cup instead, explaining that I can't eat the cone. I first realized that this is not a common question, because the woman looked completely baffled. She said, "No we don't have any cups." I replied with, "Oh okay, well what about a drink cup, could you just put some in the bottom of that?" She goes, "We don't have any spoons, but I guess I could put some in a cup for you, and you would have to eat it with a straw, and it's gonna cost two dollars." Hmmm, well this presents an issue. First of all, I am not sure when a straw became an eating utensil... she said it so matter of factly, like everyone has eaten things other than a smoothie with a straw. Honestly that sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. So not only did she want me to eat my fro yo with a hollow stick but she also wanted me to pay extra for it? Um, I don't think so. It's supposed to be dollar fro yo, and I have to respect the principal of that. I kindly declined her amazing offer, and walked away satisfied that I just stuck it to the man. Take that Ikea. Take that!

pictures found here and here

LA LA LA

Welp. I officially graduated college. Well, I officially wore the cap and gown and received my official "upon final review of your application you will receive your diploma" letter. So now I'm just sitting with my fingers crossed waiting for the grades to roll in. I'm pretty positive I'll be okay but sending some luck my way couldn't hurt.

So now what do I do? I guess it's time to start progressively growing up right? Well like most things in my life I'm gonna procrastinate on that small detail just a little bit longer. That's right in a weekish I am reverting back to my childhood and moving back in with good ole Mom and Dad. I'm sick of paying bills, hunting people down for rent, and fixing things. I have re lit the pilot light in the water heater, stuck my hand down the garbage disposal, and reset the fuse box way too many times. So now I think I am gonna to take a break. Next time something sparks and then explodes I'm gonna sit back and shout, "Daaaaaaaaad!" I heard that was the magic word to get things fixed, I'm just itching to see if it works. (Oh Dad, I can already see your smirk and hear your scoff as you read this. Don't pretend you're not excited to have me hanging around the house all the time.)

I'm pretty stoked for this new roommate situation. I think it's gonna work out real well. I'll just be happy to have food in the house with regularity, and the occasional home cooked meal. It takes very little to please me. I have even been upgraded from the library to the guestroom. Which is great because I don't think my college degree was going to provide me with the appropriate credentials to manage my parents book collection. The Dewey Decimal system always confused me. I doubt they'll let me forget that my new room is actually the guestroom though. Pretty sure they don't want me getting too attached to living there. I'll try not to, but I can't promise they won't get too attached to me. I am pretty awesome.

Luckily this time when it came to moving , my Dad and brothers were able to come up and help me out. The last time I moved I had to fend for myself and I think four girls with a 24 foot U-Haul in San Francisco is explanation enough for why it was imperative I get some help this time around. Unfortunately my Dad was here last weekend for graduation, so he only wanted to stay until Tuesday. This means that all of my stuff, with the exception of two suitcases and a mattress topper has been gone since Monday night. So for the rest of the week I am inhabiting in what my roommates so fondly call a crack den. My life is nothing if not thrilling.

I am excited to embark on a new adventure in a new (old) place, meet new people, and try different things. It's clear that a change of scenery is something I really need, but I am really sad to be leaving this city. It will always have a piece of my heart and I think that's collateral enough to keep coming back. (DANIELLE!) It hasn't even hit me that I'm really leaving. I have been so caught up in finishing school, packing, cleaning, and dealing with my job that this whole past week has been a blur. Even though I have lifted box after box and donated all my furniture to Salvation army, it still feels like I am just heading home for summer break and eventually I'll be back. I am sure that once I am home, possibly unemployed, and with what will seem like an endless amount of unpacking, the sadness will probably set in. I'll have to find something to keep my mind off of thinking about it too much.

So for now, it's a weekend filled with 22 and a half hours of work, cleaning, and tying up all the loose odds and ends. Then it's up early Monday morning for one last decent down the lovely I-5. (I'm excited to hit all my favorite gas station bathrooms, unfortunately I'll be way to early for Sonic slushie happy hour.Which is even MORE collateral for making a trip back!) But don't worry San Francisco, even though I am heading back to the land where people talk like me, I'll be visiting before you know it!

Thanks for showing me a hella good time. <3