I have a love/hate relationship with IKEA. Actually, its more like a eh/despise relationship. When I was little, I remember going to IKEA with my parents (at Potomac Mills Mall…what a drive that was!) and they would put me in the ball-pit while they shopped. Obviously, the trauma has not worn off.
Nearly all of my apartment is furnished by IKEA, so I can’t 100% hate on it, but out of the 10 or so pieces that I have from the store, only three are still in perfect working order. Now, I admit, I am somewhat to blame for these pieces falling apart: the majority of my IKEA construction took place the day after I graduated from Emory and I was basically operating on no sleep. The majority of the blame, though, falls on one person, and what a tool (pun!) this guy has turned out to be.
The blame falls on the IKEA Man.