Ikea

I’ve spent at least a total of 24 hours in the Ikea store at Victoria Gardens in the last month and a half. Part of moving to a new city means buying heaps of new stuff that you never realised you’d need but suddenly can’t live without. For example: a whisk. Or a bottle opener. Or a key hook. One run through Ikea and suddenly I’m $400 poorer, all spent on individual items that cost no more than $5 each. It’s robbery.

But still, I go back. Again and again. And really, though it’s not my favourite place to spend a Sunday morning, it’s easy enough to get in, get everything I need, and get out the door. Ikea and I certainly have a love-hate relationship.

As a renter, the last thing I want in my (tiny) apartment is expensive furniture. I mean, I have dreams one day of upgrading into a large beautiful warehouse conversion, at which point I’ll buy my leather lounge suite, but for now I’m hardly responsible enough to take care of such an investment. Plus, I have a tendency to move between countries fairly often, and according to Qantas hauling furniture along is not really an option. For my type, Ikea is perfect.

Besides, at least I get to reward myself for my spending efforts with a $1 hotdog on the way out the door.