Semi-Disposable Swedish Furniture
Well, it's been a long time coming, but I think I finally need to face up to my problems, confront my demons head-on, and start the twelve steps to recovery.
My name is Mookmoo, and I'm an Ikea addict.
Yes, it's true. I find myself coming up with flimsy excuses to visit its hallowed halls of Swedish loveliness, and find myself spending hundreds of pounds on excitingly flat-packed furniture. I can't even meander through the 'marketplace' section without buying at least a sexily patterned dishcloth or two. The place haunts my dreams, my daydreams, and my living room. I've even start obsessively reading the catalogue in the bath to try and get a fix...
The problem is, I'm really not a house-proud kind of person. I'm actually messy as hell, as is He, and our house looks like either a creative haven of exciting objets, or a tip, depending which way you look at it. But I do like quirky stuff, and I do like the house to look a bit different and funky, and Ikea lets me fulfill this yearning for a sexily original pad far too easily...
And the worst thing of all is, the furniture's so damn cheap I don't even have a second thought about chucking bits of it out at regular intervals and replacing them with new Ikea purchases.
(I say 'I' because although He also likes to have a funky looking house, He'd be far to lazy to do anything about it if He didn't have my Ikea addiction to contend with)
Which brings me on to tonight's planned visit. Bored of the old white bookcases, I'd like some more open, shelving effect ones, preferably in wood, and with some ineterestingly different bookends. My books are feeling stifled (or so I told Him to justify it, even though the fool doesn't believe that books have feelings). And as the old bookcases only cost us £30 each and I can sell them in Loot, I can far too easily justify it.
Oh, and then I also need teatowels, place mats, bowls, picture frames...
Oh God, help me! Help me! I'm a raving addict and I need to be contained!
My name is Mookmoo, and I'm an Ikea addict.
Yes, it's true. I find myself coming up with flimsy excuses to visit its hallowed halls of Swedish loveliness, and find myself spending hundreds of pounds on excitingly flat-packed furniture. I can't even meander through the 'marketplace' section without buying at least a sexily patterned dishcloth or two. The place haunts my dreams, my daydreams, and my living room. I've even start obsessively reading the catalogue in the bath to try and get a fix...
The problem is, I'm really not a house-proud kind of person. I'm actually messy as hell, as is He, and our house looks like either a creative haven of exciting objets, or a tip, depending which way you look at it. But I do like quirky stuff, and I do like the house to look a bit different and funky, and Ikea lets me fulfill this yearning for a sexily original pad far too easily...
And the worst thing of all is, the furniture's so damn cheap I don't even have a second thought about chucking bits of it out at regular intervals and replacing them with new Ikea purchases.
(I say 'I' because although He also likes to have a funky looking house, He'd be far to lazy to do anything about it if He didn't have my Ikea addiction to contend with)
Which brings me on to tonight's planned visit. Bored of the old white bookcases, I'd like some more open, shelving effect ones, preferably in wood, and with some ineterestingly different bookends. My books are feeling stifled (or so I told Him to justify it, even though the fool doesn't believe that books have feelings). And as the old bookcases only cost us £30 each and I can sell them in Loot, I can far too easily justify it.
Oh, and then I also need teatowels, place mats, bowls, picture frames...
Oh God, help me! Help me! I'm a raving addict and I need to be contained!
posted by Mookmoo at 2:22 pm
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