Even if shopping comes easily, an IKEA excursion can expose even the most committed of shoppers. I have a friend who imagines IKEA as the Swedish word for “hell.” Once inside, you’re lost in a maze that seems to lead you back to a vaguely familiar kitchen. Of course, in wandering, you’re sure to be separated from anyone you love. If you have to use the restroom, they’re all fake, like a bladder mirage. And when you think you’ve escaped the warehouse nightmare, you find yourself in self-assembly ...