Ikealess

Yes, that’s right.  Mr. Bunches and I are Ikealess, i.e. without a nearby Ikea.  And that means we can’t make things like an unbelievably amazing fauxdenza out of Ikea cabinets (you can check out the full tutorial here on The Brick House):

And we also can’t come up with any creative Ikea Hacks for inclusion at IkeaHackers.net, like for example this totally ingenius (although needs-some-improved-spacing-of-the-sliderssliding door hack:

Tangent: I’m seriously in love with the whole barn-door-on-the-inside concept.  My sister in Cali probably has the coolest one I’ve ever seen, and next time I’m there I’ll definitely have to snap a pic to share, but for now I’ll just show you this one via Pinterest . . .

Tangent over.  Back to seemingly pointless post.

Okay, so back to my Ikealess pity party.  No Ikea.  At least within a 4 hour drive inside the United States (I think there are some closer ones in Canada, but for some reason buying stuff in Canada currently intimidates me; or maybe it’s just the Customs agents on the border that intimidate me . . . not sure why I get so scared going across the border, particularly when I have literally nothing to hide, but it sure does get to me every time.  Every.  Single.  Time.). 

Of course, some may argue that not having an Ikea nearby is a good thing.  Because, as anyone who’s purchased one of those flat-boxes-that-makes-you-scratch-your-head-wondering-how-that-one-flat-box-is-going-to-somehow-turn-into-a-five-drawer-dresser knows, it can be nothing but pure torture.  Torture I say!  100 pieces and only a 3-inch allen wrench for assembly?!  Surely you jest Ikea.  Surely?

So maybe the Mr. and I are blessed.  My friend Tom would probably say we are . . . he had his own deeply personal Ikea fail recently, which he chronicled in a short video.  It made me laugh; it made me cry; but most of all, it reminded me of that deep-down hatred for Ikea that is somehow forgotten everytime I flip through their catalog and walk into their store (both of which also have the odd effect of making me wish I lived in 250 square feet so that I, too, could be this organized:)

Maybe then I too would have time to play the cello.  And three violins.  Maybe.

Anyone else have a love/hate relationship with Ikea?  Are the Mr. and I blessed to be far away from the nearest store?  Or will our new home (and our wallets) suffer the consequences of buying regular, assembled-by-someone-else furniture?

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