Famous last words.

I don’t know who I’m trying to fool every time I say this.

Certainly not IKEA.

And definitely not myself.

Because somehow, every single visit starts exactly the same way.

“I only need one thing.”

Maybe it’s a chopping board.

Maybe a set of glasses.

Maybe a new pillow.

One thing.

That’s it.

The problem is… who actually goes to IKEA for just one thing?

It’s like walking into a buffet and telling yourself you’re only there for the salad.

Technically possible.

Realistically? Absolutely not.

First of all, you don’t even get to the thing you came for.

No.

You have to earn it.

You enter the store and suddenly you’re walking through what feels like seventeen fully furnished apartments. Living rooms. Bedrooms. Kitchens. Bathrooms. Tiny balconies that somehow look cosier than your entire home.

Then there are the different floors.

Escalators.

Shortcuts that never actually feel short.

Arrows on the floor telling you where to go as if you’ve willingly signed up for some kind of Scandinavian pilgrimage.

And somewhere along the way… something happens.

You stop being the person who came in for a chopping board.

You become the person who apparently needs new cushions.

And candles.

And a plant.

And matching storage boxes.

And a lamp that wasn’t even on your shopping list five minutes ago.

My favourite part is the internal negotiation.

“Well… I don’t technically need this.”

“But it would look quite nice.”

“And it’s only…”

No.

Stop right there.

This is exactly how it starts.

Three hours later, you’re somehow leaving IKEA wondering what on earth just happened.

If you drove there, your car is suddenly full.

If you’re anything like me and usually take an Uber… good luck explaining to your driver why you’ve turned up with what looks like half of IKEA’s kitchen department.

And if you took the bus, the metro or the train…

Honestly…

I don’t even know what to tell you.

How exactly are you planning on getting all of this home?

Those big blue IKEA bags suddenly don’t seem nearly as manageable when you’re carrying three of them, plus a lamp tucked under one arm, while trying to convince yourself this was all part of the plan.

Which brings me to my second piece of advice.

Never go to IKEA alone.

Okay… partly because the other person might stop you from buying things you absolutely do not need.

But mainly because if things do get out of hand, at least you’ve got someone to help carry everything back.

Because let’s be honest…

How many of those blue bags can one person realistically carry?

The funniest part?

Half the things you’re replacing at home were perfectly fine.

Your old bowls worked.

Your old cushions were comfortable.

Your old storage boxes… stored things.

So now what?

Now you own three different versions of something you only ever needed one of.

Adulting is weird.

One minute you’re buying teaspoons.

The next you’re emotionally attached to a shelving unit with a Swedish name you can’t pronounce.

And somehow…

you still forgot to buy the one thing you actually went there for.

Right?

— Raulito

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