A Place for our Asses; Or, Ektorp! The Swedish Lava-Walker

In preparation of moving into our first home, Lynette and I officially purchased our first, new furniture. Call me overly nostalgic or just plain silly, but little moments like these must be celebrated.

In Illinois, we put our asses on old, hand-me-down couches. For the last six years here in Virginia, we used a futon and a strangely-shaped, dirty chair that demanded its occupants to fall unconscious upon sitting (due to a way-too-comfortable feature that separated the sitter from the rest of the room socially).

Now, we own brand-spankin' new furniture. By the way, we bought it now so that we have new furniture on the first day we move into our new house.

In case you can't tell from the picture above, we bought from Ikea. You got to love a store that sells couches, frozen yogurt, and light bulbs all under one roof. If you haven't been, I highly recommend it. Bring a large vehicle, unless you want a long, flat box sticking out the passenger window on your way home. (Trust me, this will happen even if you don't walk in planning on buying anything.) We rented a box truck.

In defense of our furniture, we did not have to assemble it when we got it home. Those of you who have shopped from Ikea will know why that sentence is funny. Though I am trying to figure out why it came with a small, hex-wrench...