You are concerned for my time such that you assist me with your tape measures (constantly breaking I need 10 of them to get through one section and your wee papers and pencils which poke holes through the paper because you have nothing to put the waxy anti-pencil paper on).
I marvel at your selection of
Your lanes (lanes which if you go the wrong way on people get all yell-y and you get stuck in a black hole you can never get out of) are stocked with everything a person could want (and things which we have no idea on earth what they possibly are, we all need a fcdshf for our sdfkldsjc).
When I get your lovely (5,000,000 metric ton) boxes home, your instructions (you need to be on acid to understand...no I can find item a,b and c when they are marked x,y and z) with the wee little man (I hate that little man, he mocks me to this day) and the useful tools (my 4 year old has better playschool tools...hate the little stabby, oweee, pinchy tools).
Thank you IKEA for (ruining my nails and shins and knees) your
p.s. my house may or may not be 50% IKEA products...more like 75%...shameful!