IKEA

I'm getting back in the game. As you know, I've been MIA for a while, so I've got some catching up to do.

I hope you won't try to read everything all at once, you will likely develop a nasty case of mental indigestion.

Unfortunately, I don't have a whole lot of photorials for you, but I do have a lot of memories.

For this lovely post, I take you back to the first days of our existence here in Cincinnati.

My wife and I had next to nothing as far as furniture is concerned so we turned to . . . you guessed it, IKEA, that harbinger of furnishing bliss.

I'll try to summarize things briefly.

My wife and I visited IKEA probably 5-8 times.

It seemed like each time our daughter conveniently needed a serious diaper change as we were leaving . . .

It also felt like we had to rush out the door each time before the kicked everyone out.

On numerous occasions, we could barely fit everything on the cart -- or in the car, for that matter. In fact, on one occasion we had an employee help us out and we had to rip some of the boxes open and stick part of our bed frame out the back window. Good times, trust me.

Basically, almost anything not a computer in our apartment that isn't inside a closet was assembled by yours truly.

Tim Taylor would give me a hearty ho-ho at my uncanny ability to wield an IKEA wrench (as shown). After many hours, many mistakes and much scratching of my head, it's all in place.

That's probably more detail than you bargained for, so if you want more, either fill in the blanks or petition for a furtherance of information, the CA is not unsympathetic, your pleas will not fall upon deaf ears.