A Riddle (sort of)

Question: Can you guess where I’ve been?

I walk into this guy’s apartment. He’s clearly just left. I start looking around, trying to see if I can figure out who he is based on his living room. Let’s see, white couch. Clearly no pets or small children. Bookshelves with frosted glass doors and oddly dated etched patterns on the glass. Lit from the inside – perhaps he’s handy. How do you light a bookcase from the inside? Eh. Oooo, look! Very cool coffee table! It’s white wood with a glass top and immediately under the glass is a shallow drawer divided into wooden compartments. It’s like a coffee table for people who collect stuff!! I would totally fill that thing up in a week: all the vintage buttons I’ve been buying, my tangled mess of embroidery floss, my postcard collection, cat toys, extra AA and AAA batteries… Why is his empty? He’s clearly afraid of his inner collector. I think this guy must be some sort of occasionally hip but mostly nerdy computer guy. It’s too clean in here. Everything’s white and his rug is very plain. That’s how I peg him.

Next I walk into a woman’s bedroom. It’s clearly a woman’s bedroom because one glass-fronted closet is filled with shelves sporting a fine collection of girly high heels. In fact, they are ALL brightly colored high heeled sandals. She never wears flats, apparently, and never fears frostbite. Hm. I don’t know why but I’m pretty sure this one’s a floozy. No bookshelves. Lots of cool sweater and shoe storage solutions though. The bedding is GORGEOUS. All her clothes are grey and sequined. That’s just weird.

Oh, now I’ve found a kitchen. Obviously this is the kitchen where the Japanese family eats. No table and chairs, but instead a plush carpet with a little short round table and puffy floor cushions. Oh, and actual bamboo stapled to the walls.

Another living room, this one filled with every imaginable bookcase. I love bookcases. If I could collect them, I would. And I would have no problem filling them because I also love books. What books do we have here? None of these look familiar. None of them even look like they’re in English. All foreign books. Huh. Multiple copies of the same Swedish-looking biography of a guy who might be named Rolf. Why own 7 copies of the same cheesy looking book? Oh. Maybe this is Rolf’s place.

One last hint: Swedish meatballs, cinnamon buns, and sanctioned voyeurism dressed up as furniture shopping….

The answer: I spent 4 hours at IKEA!

Good times.