ikea ain't for lovers.

something about swedish furniture and meatballs made partially of horse bits sends my jeff and me into a fury. suddenly we need everything and can't remember the measurements of our house and what exactly did we come here for? how do we get out of here? where are the bathrooms? our house isn't even yellow, jeff...why would we need a yellow desk, jeff? why is this not turning out like 500 days of summer, jeff? 

(i'm writing this as a public reminder to take our ikea trips s e p a r a t e l y. those cheap hot dogs + creamy frozen yogurt we always get when we leave always leave us with wonderful and outright delusional memories of our ikea experience. remember when we agreed on those kitchen towels? and found an entertainment center that is proportional to our apartment and doesn't overwhelm it entirely? let's go back again!)

oh, life.

(p.s. i'm not crazy -- the ikea complex is a thing. see look.)