Published on December 31st, 2012 | Materials: Fjellse Full-size Bed Frame, Sutlan Florvag, wood screws, 4 lag bolts, wood glue Description: The whole idea for this project stemmed from our need to turn our guest room into more than just a place that gets used by friends and family 2 weeks a year. Most of our visitors are couples, so we needed more than just a standard twin daybed, the width of the space was also just a bit too small to fit a queen size bed. Enter the idea of the pull out daybed. We started with a Fjellse bed frame and took meticulous measurements and sketched out plans to have the bed pull apart to expand to a full size bed. Using almost every single piece of wood that came with the bed and a 2X6 piece of wood, we constructed the frame. The lag bolds and a few extra wood screws were the only additions. The middle support was cannibalized to make laminated legs (attractive and sturdy) for the frame that was made out of the headboard, baseboard, and the rails that were cut in half.
We narrowed the spacing of the rails that attached to the headboard,before eventually constructed a sliding bed base out of hardwood slats (DO NOT USE PINE OR THE BED BASES SOLD AT IKEA). Once the bed was slats were attached to the appropriate sliding side, I took some old fence boards that we cut to size to make a flat headboard, and then upholstered it using batting, DIY fabric buttons, a linen-like material, and our handy dandy staple gun. After that, we took a serrated bread knife to an ikea foam double mattress, cut it in half before putting its back in its outer covering, and fold it in half as need for a full bed, or a day bed! The bed fits the space perfectly and is rather comfy too!When things go right at Ikea, it’s a mystical experience, like a “Twilight Zone” episode — minus the freaky final five minutes where you find out you’re a zoo exhibit for martians. Imagine if you will a company, that could read your mind before you arrive at the store, design exactly what you need and somehow charge six bucks for it …
That’s what happened last week, when I was looking at the Emeryville Ikea for CD racks to supplement my basement organization project. I was searching for a simple wooden wall-mounted shelf that would hold around 100 CDs, and hoping to pay less than $50. I walked away paying under $18 for three metal racks, which fit in way better with the industrial motif of my basement workout area, and hold a total of 250 discs. Incredible finds like this are not an unusual occurrence. Probably my all-time greatest kid buy was a $10 play tent from Ikea, which has survived both of my crazy boys and will probably be enjoyed by my grandchildren as well. And yet when Ikea is bad, it’s losing-big-in-Vegas bad. I walk out of the building with an upset stomach full of Swedish meatballs, wondering what the hell I’m going to tell my wife about the white shag rug couch covering I bought for $69, in hopes that it would make our torture device of an Ikea love seat a little less uncomfortable to sit on.
(In reality, it just made the furniture look like a Bichon Frise.) My dysfunctional relationship with Ikea is outlined below, broken down by category. Your thoughts in the comments … The names: The downside: I find the Swedish names they give all their products kind of pretentious, and difficult to remember by the time I get to the warehouse to pick out the item. (Did I want the Lerberg or the Lorberg?) I know I’m verging on Lou Dobbs territory here, but we’re in America. It’s called a throw rug, not a Vitaminer Hjarta. The upside: I’m thinking if I ever do get to the Scandanavian region, my conversational Swedish might be pretty decent. Especially if I need to chat with someone about wine racks and bunk bed frames. The assembly requirements: This bugged me a lot more before my wife gave birth to a miniature Bob Villa, who at 4 years old is about six months away from renovating our kitchen by himself. But it does bother me when customers need to buy two parts to make one item — and Ikea doesn’t make it painfully clear that those parts are sold separately.
I bought a couple of giant inflatable bug-themed cushions, thinking I had secured the deal of a lifetime, before realizing that I’d have to return to Ikea and pay a lot more for the giant silicone breast implant-looking things that go inside. Ikea can be sneaky like that. The labyrinthine floor plan: You know that part at the end of “Hotel California,” where Don Henley goes “you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.” I find myself singing that to myself at least one time during each visit to Ikea, usually as I pull a “Blair Witch Project” and pass the same mattress Sultan Florvag for the eighth time. And I hate it when Eagles songs get stuck in my head. The food: In theory, the food at the Ikea cafe is a revelation. It’s fast, impossibly cheap, creative, includes seemingly healthy options (salmon!) and the cafeteria at the Emeryville location has a splendid view of the San Francisco Bay. And yet I have to acknowledge after several visits that I’ve never personally enjoyed a meal there.
No matter what I order, when I’m done it always feels like I just ate an entire can of Pringles. I still like the cafe for the kid meals, but I’d rather eat almost anywhere else. The child care: Speaking of kids, Ikea has to be the only major retail chain in the Bay Area to offer free child care while you shop — with a security system that’s only slightly less intricate than a hospital maternity ward. I also love the way that the area around the kid furniture is a de facto playground, off the beaten path enough so it won’t bother the regular shoppers. Overall, I’d much rather have Ikea around than not have it. What are your likes and dislikes when it comes to the furniture and housewares superstore? PETER HARTLAUB is the pop culture critic at the San Francisco Chronicle and founder of this parenting blog, which admittedly sometimes has nothing to do with parenting. Explora Usted, Som Föredrar, ¡y mucho más!IkeaAlmohadasGOSA SYREN Keskikorkea tyyny - IKEAVer másyogaVer más2 toallas de baño grandes de...