Why I love Ikea
I just realised this evening why I love Ikea (we recently made some sizeable deposits towards the Royal Bank of Ikea): it aides enourmously in maintaining the illusion that I actually know how to work a screwdriver and end up with useable, nay, even nice-looking stuff.
In reality, the stuff is so cleverly designed and instructions are written (or drawn, rather) for an audience so incredibly handicraftically challenged that it would be an achievement in itself not to be able to put together this furniture. That has never stopped me from claiming some of credit before, though, and I ain't about to start today.