The IKEA Jungle

Are we in agreement that putting together an IKEA bed shouldn’t be rocket science? I’m not a rocket scientist -which is probably the problem- and this is probing to be quite a task. All the bolts to my IKEA bed frame are missing. Now… I suspect, that this is the work of the nuts and bolts monster… He most likely ate them. He’s as real as the pegacorn folks. 
Irregardless, I now have a bed that is on the floor. In pieces. Without any way to put this bad boy together. IKEA ROAD TRIP!! I’m ready to kill a few hours of my day. Why are these stores NEVER nearby? With all the hullabaloo surrounding the Swedish meatballs, one would protest that they don’t open up Ikea cafés on every corner. I’d be there every day. For the coffee. And the waffles. Mmm… Waffles.
I don’t know the name of my bed style. All I know is it’s a queen. It’s a platform bed. And it’s in pieces all over my bedroom floor. Metaphor much? 
Welcome to IKEA! I know the bolts that go to my bed are here in Switzerland… somewhere. So I head up the staircase to the entrance with the crazy notion that I can hunt this puppy down. The styles of their furniture doesn’t change that frequently and I only bought this bed a couple years ago. I mean, that’s part of the beauty of what IKEA stands for. Simplicity… and the confidence that I can return at any time and find replacement parts. And waffles. As I’m following the arrows of time wasted, traveling through the maze of gimme gimme, I finally get to the bedroom department. I don’t see my bed anywhere. You’ve got to be kidding me. Is IKEA friends with Siri? I know that peach of a computer is infiltrating all technology to relish in her joy of fucking with me on every level. Making sure there is no reference of what I need in the store’s computer system. Whore.
Ok. Three millions arrows to follow and many departments I didn’t want to look through later, I found a bed frame that was similar to mine. It’s a platform bed. Dark wood. More like particle board. But it’s missing my nightstands that attach to the headboard and have floating drawers. Considering everything else on the bed frame itself looks the same, I’m thinking the hardware has to be the same too. Or close to it. Zebras and leopards are the same, right? Wrong. But… They both have four legs. So, I grab the paper with the info and I’m off. The representative of the bedroom department says I need to go to customer service, she thinks. So I run to customer service to play Russian Roulette. Dammit. Customer service tells me to go to Returns. Where’s the rabbit hole I need to fall in? I feel like I’m in Wonderland. Screw it. IKEA cafe break. 
Imagine, quirky, elevator music playing while you slide your tray along the cafeteria displays. Making your choices seem endless to the soundtrack of melodies reminiscent of Saturday morning cartoons. Macaroni and cheese was pretty good. Can’t really screw that up I don’t think. But with all the black pepper and hot sauce I dumped all over it… Who could tell? I like spicy. Anything without spice feels so boring. Kind of like me. Kidding. Well, maybe I’m not kidding… Anyway, steamed fake vegetables -gotta work on those IKEA cafe- I doused a buttload of salt/pepper on those. I’m not a fan of salt, but I still gobbled them up without complaint. For dessert, I grab some yellow custard cake thing with jam inside and -no, no…there’s no jam in there at all. It’s all sugar. I’ve never tasted anything loaded with so much sugar that it would make your soda not sweet. Wow. Someone take the sugar away from the chef. My teeth, I’m certain, dissolved out of my mouth as I ate that thing. Notice, nothing really stopped me from eating the all-fructose induced pastry…
Ah, returns section. I take a number and wait while I hear Debbie Gibson’s “Shake Your Love” playing overhead. I can get into this. Shake your love, I jus can’t your love. Shake your love, I just can’t shake, your loove…. Number 86. Yay! That’s me. Hi, I need bolts for a bed you don’t have anymore. The lady looks confused. She humors me.  Cascading back and forth to the stock room five times -my fault, I had none of the parts I needed and kept asking for more- and finally we think we got it. She’s not sure. I’m not sure. It’s a fuckery I’m all too familiar. Knowing my luck, my bed will need one random piece they don’t make anymore. I ask her how much and she says free. I said, what? Replacement parts are free. Holy cow! IKEA speaks my language! I love you IKEA. 
After a little bit of struggle, I’ve managed his monstrosity, although missing a few pieces -still- is finally holding my mattress up off the floor. I plop down to feel my good work in action and I fall right through the bed frame onto the floor. With my pride. FML. 

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