It's time to start shopping for the baby's room, and I see a trip to IKEA in my near future. Like most men, I'm not wild about trips to IKEA. Every time I get dragged there, we get lost on the way to Schaumburg, then spend hours wandering around the store, avoiding the thousands of others wandering around the store, get in a drag-down argument, spend way more than we planned, and walk out with a bunch of boxes full of hernia-heavy pieces of wood that I have to figure out how to put together when we get home.
When Sarah brought up IKEA yesterday, my mom perked up. "IKEA? I've always wanted to go to IKEA. The nearest one to us is all the way in Santa Fe." ...
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