As promised, we murdered Ikea. Ikea went down fighting.

We've been in the apartment "officially" for about three days, and this is the first morning we both got up and went to our respective jobs instead of blazing out to LI to pick up more stuff and go on our daily death march through Ikea.

The last few days are admittedly pretty boring to everyone except Gui and me; we're both hyperventilating over having a place to live but now being completely broke. So read or do not, there is no try, and it's all good either way.

How we got stuff into our building: we double parked (three nights in a row) and then unloaded things from the truck to the lobby at a dead sprint through the snow (also three nights in a row. Ask me why it's cheaper to start a lease in January). Then one of us protected the stuff while the other made trips up and down to the apartment and threw things in until the lobby was clear. Rinse, repeat. We've been taking a lot of Advil.

Getting that mattress in was the easiest thing we did. It was early on, and we still had some energy, no injuries, fair levels of hydration and a lot of adrenaline. We folded it in half, stuffed it into our tiny elevator along with ourselves, and just shoved it into the apartment. I hit my head pretty badly on the low ceiling at our upstairs doorway but whatever. Rally. We both hit our heads at various times during the weekend. I am covered in bruises from places in our apartment that just reached out and smacked me before I realized they were there.

So on our first night there we threw the mattress upstairs and agreed to clean the apartment like we were hiding a chainsaw murder. This included much on the knees Cinderella like scrubbing, some chemical burns to my lip where I accidentally brushed it with some kind of industrial cleaner, some definite lung scarring from inhaling the aforementioned, and occasional gasping fresh air breaks on the balcony so that neither of us passed out. We cleaned for four hours and then went to a party in Gramercy, a neighborhood that undoubtedly has the highest per capita meathead to civilian ratio on earth (with the possible exception of Fort Lauderdale during spring break). We went home on the 6 around midnight. It was nice. We are old.

The next day we set out for and accidentally purchased furniture that would pass in pretty much any abode populated by adults. This was fortuitous, as we nearly purchased a leather set that probably would have been better situated in more specific places Populated By Certain Consenting Adults. Places that are legal in Nevada. You get it. Our exhaustion may have clouded our judgment when we were discussing why a room full of polyurethane coated bonded leather was an "awesome idea."

So instead we got this set for downstairs, in a nice, easily washable but still non-brothel friendly taupe microfiber. We got the sofa, love seat, chair and ottoman, all matching, and are having it delivered because we are on the brink of death after the weekend.

Still mourning the loss of our bionic bed storage, we also got this transforming coffee table, which Guido has named "TableTron." Click on "more views" to see how the top pops up to form the table on which we will eat most of our meals, should we ever be able to afford food again, and where we will play on the internet and spend quality time not developing carpal tunnell while playing XBox.

And then came Ikea.

Stupid Ikea with its unpronouncable, unnecessarily umlaut laden and consonant heavily named "furniture." Stupid Ikea, with which we have furnished the rest of our apartment. Stupid Ikea, at which we spent more money than we should have on a non-bionic bed which looks lovely, fits in our nook, but required a Home Depot run to make usable, and is now set up in such a way that I have to vault over Gui to get out of bed at night, which is bad for both of us, especially when you've been poisoned by the neighborhood pizza and are severely unwell. See: last night.

But I like our bed. I do.

I really need to get down to lawyering and billing for my time for the day, so here's the rest, in short, more or less. Everything hereafter is in black-brown unless specified otherwise.

This is the entertainment center on which Gui's giant TV now rests and in which his myriad electronics will soon live. These are the end tables on which our drinks may rest without coasters, because they were only $13 each. These are the dressers which will flank the entertainment center, a) because our apartment has no storage and b) when I say "will" and "flank" I mean "well, we thought they would" until last night when we realized they might not both fit without completely blocking our staircase to the downstairs, and closing off the entire room like some awful post yuppie Swedish version of the Count of Monte Cristo. This one is still a work in progress. This Ikea stuff is remarkably heavy.

For our middle floor, our kitchen, now known as "Middle Earth" we got this table. It expands. We have not built it yet.

For the bedroom, we got this little guy for more storage, and this big guy for way more storage. We got the Hopen with mirrored doors because I found walking out of the apartment every day with absolutely no idea at all what I looked like to be very disconcerting. The big wardrobe is a medium wood color of some sort. No one cares. I know.

There's a ton of stuff in the kitchen, 99% of which is not food. We're going to try to remedy that tonight.

And that's where we are. The couches come this weekend. We need rugs post haste because our already uppity neighbors already hate us. We need lamps because Gui has been assembling brown-black furniture in relative darkness, which is really impressive but probably not a good time.

I want to buy this apartment so we never have to move again. Gui and I generally never fight (it's a mellow acceptance thing we've developed over time, not a sick Stepford icy silence building resentment thing) but this whole move has worn us down to our last nerves. We need a break. And pre-assembled furniture.

Never again!

EPIC SHOUT OUT to Gui's brother JP, who gave up his entire MLK day off (and last day of law school winter break) to run around to a ton of stores with us, then came to our apartment, lugged around all of the things that were much too heavy for me to move alone with Gui, and then stayed and put the stuff together. The kid is a saint. There is not enough beer and pizza in the world to issue a proper thanks.

PS The Bob-o-pedic is hotter than sleeping on the surface of the sun but very, very comfortable. Not as stanky as expected.

PPS We got a giant smiling monkey face for our bathmat and a matching monkey wastebasket. I love it.