I found a jar of lingonberry preserves in my purse. I must have forgotten to take them out after our trip to IKEA.
Curse them. We went for a chair for my flatmate, and they were out of stock, but we did not discover this until after I purchased a pretty blue throw for my squishy velvet futon chair and a new big firm squishy huggly pillow for my bed, as Rob confiscates both my normal pillow and my spare pillow every time he comes to visit, leaving me to try to adjust my head on a stuffed tiger.
I quite like Jonathan Coulton's take on IKEA. I sent it to my aforementioned co-worker, who responded, "now the only expression of the formerly bloodthirsty nature of the Norse is through that black metal that comes from the frozen north. That and the occasional church burning The difference is that they burn their own, not ones belonging to others nations. Pansies."
I love my job.