just call me abjii

It’s impossible to go to Ikea and not stop at the restaurant.

There’s something about those Swedish meatballs. About the whole place actually. They must pump something in because I go in there and I immediately feel certain that I want to chuck everything and live a completely Ikea life. You know, fjords and white floors and open shelving in the kitchen. Right now, I’m obsessing on their new duvet covers. They’re blue and white striped. Enuf said. But that would mean a whole revamp of the bedroom and I’ve got to stay on track. Living room first. THEN kitchen. THEN bedroom. And finish the bathroom somewhere in there.

(BTW, if you want to know what your name is in Ikea, click here.)

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