I know I haven’t gotten into the rant here yet, but those of you who know me in the real world, know that I am obsessed with 1. getting my own house 2. Ikea.

After finally hitting up the heavenly warehouse that it is the other day, I got to see the sommar (summer) products hands-on. I think I’m going to buy a bunch on my next trip, even if I need to keep them until I move out. And here I go saying it: I want my own house.

I want a cozy little area in my backyard (maybe even a greenhouse) where I can string it to hell with lights and lanterns. I want to grow it into my own little forest with trees and plants in every nook and cranny. I want long panels of brightly patterned fabrics to hang from the roof like sails in the wind.

And when it grows dark, I want to dim the lights and let the fireflies take the lead accompanied by the sound of crickets.

I want to have camp-outs and run barefoot through the grass to a little hidden site where my friends waiting around the fire with marshmallow.

I want every summer night to be a mini-vacation—a getaway—and when it’s all over, I’ll lazily walk up the stairs, crawl into bed and get ready for the upcoming day.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.