Walking through an IKEA is a long-winding aspirational odyssey. You set your shopping cart in motion along the track of enormous arrows on the floor, and you know that you may not emerge for a long time. But when you do emerge from the checkout line, harried and hungry and possessing more closet organizers than anybody needs, you reach one of the most under-appreciated sections of the store—the groceries.
Drinking in the morning is a tricky thing. Just enough mimosa or bloody mary, and you'll have a mild buzz, a kind of pleasant pre-noon warmth that can propel you into the rest of the afternoon. Too much, and you're doomed for a serious crash before 3 p.m. and possibly the dreaded 5 p.m. hangover.