Ümläüts and lingonberries and shiny housewares, how I have missed you.
Thankfully, I can get rid of my withdrawal in late March when an Ikea finally opens in a suburb of Cincinnati: more mirror squares for the wall! a bathroom rug that was not shredded by the washing machine!* adorable little pots with which to create a makeshift herb garden on the fire escape! and pearl sugar for making fancy things with pearl sugar!
And most wonderfully of all, the end of my frustration with our silverware. "Silverware" is a misleading term, actually, as it's composed of painted plastic, glue, and what I think is probably cheap aluminum dipped in lead for extra poisoning benefits. Of course, none of it matches: eight years on, the original box of K-Mart (shut up, yes, K-Mart) "dinnerware" has been augmented with random forks stolen from the dorm dining service, old roommates' left-behind collections of grapefruit spoons, and one oddly small dessert fork that just appeared one day after we moved to Ohio.
I long for the day when I will no longer be doing dishes and pull the base of the fork off the head of the fork every time I try to scrub the tines. I pine for the occasion on which we will have friends over for dinner and not have to hope that they don't care that not a single utensil on the table matches any other utensil.
Ikea, you and your cheap stainless steel flatware will make me a happy girl.
(I can hardly choose between them! DEAR GOD THE EXCITEMENT OF FUNCTIONAL FLATWARE!)
These are the types of things that inspire consumer lust in housewives with too much time on their hands, aren't they? I fear that I'm becoming a crazy-eyed middle-aged woman.
*We also lost a somewhat luxurious fitted sheet for our bed to a laundry disaster last night: liquid bleach ate away the corner of our nice 600 thread count soft white fitted sheet and made it all yellow and holey and prone to disintegrating when touched. Now I've got to run to the housewares hell of Bed Bath & Beyond (I really, really want to put commas in their store name, but that is not how their Corporate Overlords have branded the name) to find a single full-sized fitted sheet, when I know that they will make the purchase as hard as possible by insisting upon bundling all their bed linens with flat sheets, pillowcases, etc. I JUST WANT ONE SHEET. ONE. THING. NOT THE WHOLE DAMN SET.
I could probably get a single fitted sheet at Ikea, but their thread count doesn't seem to rise above 300, and well, I'm a princess.