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There was a time—and I’m not saying I’m at all proud of this—when I used to go to Ikea for the Swedish meatballs. This was when we had toddlers, and my husband and I would strap them into the backseat of the Honda Civic to drive nearly an hour to the closest store on Long Island.
Ikea was a new thing then, and to Americans everything about it was cool: the maze of movie-set rooms displaying flat-pack furniture; the free babysitting in the Sm
Domestic Dispatches: What We Love (and Hate) About Ikea
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