ikea whore.

while in line at the cash register (one that my mom would call the lemon line), i wondered why i thought it a good idea to come to ikea on a saturday. then, a few hours later, i was there again. and i was able to find another lemon line.
oh, ikea....the luxury of having you so close.
oh, ikea....the boundless possibilities you offer.
oh, ikea....i could write odes and haikus and epic poems for you.
inspired by a manic episode, i decided (once again) that it was time to put my life in order [a place for everything and everything in its place]. this necessitated the purchase of glorified cardboard boxes. ah, yes...with these, i could surely become the compartmentalized person i desire to be. as i wandered around, all i could see was the untapped potential. i gazed longingly at the expedit, imagining my belongings lined up like soldiers. (is it so wrong to know the names of the furniture?) what i need to do, i realized, is get myself a husband and a kid. does ikea sell those? (there is smaland...hmmmm.)
all illusions are shattered now, as i gingerly step over the piles in an attempt to get across my bedroom. the chaos has gotten worse in my attempt to make it better, as it always does. sometimes i'm pretty sure i can't change the way i am.