I need to lie down. Wife and I are at our most and least, respectively, favorite place on Earth: Ikea. Sure, the prices are great, and the variety is infinite, but I just don’t see the appeal of spending several hours in a reinforced concrete labyrinth steeped in the unmistakable odor of meatballs and dirty diapers. Then again, Wife does, so I guess that’s why I am currently experiencing sleep paralysis on this queen-sized Nyvoll at 1:30 PM on a Monday afternoon. In retrospect, I should have acted on my earlier impulse to admit myself to the Smäland Play Area back when we first arrived at The Human Meatball Maze. The only glitch was that you have to be under 39 inches to gain access to all the fun, including the giant plastic shoe that would be perfect for napping in, and I’m a cozy 72. But so what? Why should I have to suffer through a Houseware of Horrors, while these kids live the high life climbing jungle gyms and screaming without threat of prosecution, just because I’m huge? If Ikea really cared about their customers, they would build a separate play area called Beegland. It would be exclusively for bored husbands and boyfriends, and it would have bean bags, video games, and a big plastic shoe that would be perfect for napping in. Of course, the only problem would be trying to get us guys to leave once you were done shopping. I guess that’s when you have to play dirty and bribe us with meatballs. It’s our only weakness.