Growing up is just an excuse to go to IKEA

This post, I suppose isn't totally about university, but it's still about growing up and moving out and stuff, so it's still relevant I guess...

I had no idea how much 'stuff' one person required to be able to function as an independent human being. My bedroom has been transformed from a regular, comfortable sleeping area into what looks like the arse end of an Argos warehouse on Boxing Day; full of inventions that up until now you had no idea existed, but 'hey! That actually sounds like it could be useful!'  However, point is, I see why houses have so many cupboards, THERE'S JUST SO MUCH CRAP TO FILL THEM WITH!

Before I'd even found out that I'd got into university, my parents went a little homeware bonkers, (at this point I thesaurus.com'ed 'crazy' because I had a complete brain fart, 'nutty as a fruitcake' and 'out of one's tree' were definitely my favourite suggestions.) My parents went a little homeware wacky earlier in the summer; they magically appeared one day with a massive ass plastic box filled with plates, mugs, cutlery, pots, pans and a potato peeler, all purchased from a certain, famous, Sweedish home accessories store. It was like Ikea had had an orgasm, the result of which had landed in this one foot by two foot box.

Now, lets be honest, we all know what Ikea really means. It does not mean 'good quality, value furniture' it means meatballs, getting lost, free pencils and trying to still fit down the little slide that leads into the children's department because the person who erected the 'for ages 3-9' sign obviously wasn't trying hard enough.
Ikea, for all of it's useful bits, is basically just a massive playground. It's a massive playground with a pit stop in the centre of it so that you can stop halfway round to refuel with meatballs and chips and cake and Coke. When you're walking around Ikea you can be pretty certain that at least 70% of the people there have ideas and agendas other than 'oh yes darling, we really do need to get ourselves a new JurgenBlurben bookcase'.

Basically, what I'm suggesting, as I'm sure is a truth also being realised by many people about to go to university, is that a trip to Ikea, much like the one that my parents took (without me might I add! Thanks for the invite guys! I was slaving away waitressing whilst you went to a playground!) is simply an excuse to go and mess around for a bit, under the facade of doing something really important and grown up. Your mum won't shout at you if you say you're going to Ikea, however, if you said, 'yes, I'm going to a large shopping complex to run my face along the soft fluffy towels and fling paper rulers and 50p cuddly toys at my partner', as well as all of the other societal rule breakages that are perfectly acceptable within the four walls of Ikea, I'm pretty sure your mum would bite your head off. Maybe we never really, actually grow up, maybe we just come up with better excuses for misbehaving?