I've been wanting a sissel rug for my family room. Pottery Barn has one, but for more than I want to pay, so on way home from the Jelly Belly factory, I thought, "Hey family, let's stop at this big, Swedish furniture box store! It will be so exciting."
Groans ensue and my excitement dies just a little, but I press on -- I'm a writer, I know rejection well.
We park in the parking lot from the dark side (think vying for a spot as if they're giving their stuff away!) Add in a dose of husband's fun comments and more kid whining. Ah, the sounds of shopping.
"But honey," I chirp happily. "The rug might be cheaper here!"
As we park, my daughter throws a five minute tantrum for good measure (she wouldn't want us to think she was into this or anything. And besides, it's always so fun to have passersby stare at you as though you are the worst parent on earth.)
So I resort to bribery, and tell all the kids, "We'll go to Fresh Choice!" So we finally get out of the car, my daughter's red-rimmed eyes showing her discomfort with the entire situation.
We're herded, yes I mean herded into the showroom via an escalator we cannot escape (think salmon going upstream! Only determined people lured with the idea of cheap furniture.)
We get upstairs to all this cheesy, modern-looking crap set in little room vignettes that are meant to make you want to live there. But apparently, I'm too old, because my first thought is, "Am I back in college? Get me a milk crate for my stereo and let's go!"
But here's the thing, the big Swedish box store is smart. They know what you're thinking (that you need absolutely nothing here) and thus, the second part of the diabolical plan ensues. You are now trapped like a U.C. Berkeley lab rat in an experiment of International proportions. Your mission should you choose to accept it, is to get out of the box store. Oh sure, there are little arrows on the floor, but there's a sadistic window-dressing retailer who wants you to look at her work, and by golly, you aren't getting out until you've seen everything. It's like one very big, very nightmarish Open House night at your kids' school without the fine art.

Okay, so IF you manage to get to the "exit" you're back downstairs where there is a huge warehouse like where they put the Ark at the end of Indiana Jones. Upstairs, if you saw something you liked, you were supposed to write its location on a piece of provided paper. Then, the real fun begins. Your SAT score of shopping box style. You go downstairs, and you try to find your fabricated partical board furniture in a massive warehouse. You still have about a mile to get out of the store. With four hungry kids in tow! (By the way, they did have the sissal rug but it's made for a Manhattan size apartment, not a real house.) We manage to get out the front door, and my family breathes a sigh of relief, and gives each other high fives feeling as though Nepal lies beneath us. We did it! Pottery Barn is feeling like a real bargain at the moment.

P.S. I just got home from Nashville, and I have my first copy of "A Girl's Best Friend" it should be out soon!