Anyone who is willing to listen to me talk, and those that don’t get away fast enough, have undoubtedly heard me complain about the lack of furniture in my apartment. “1100 square feet and just a chair! Said he would let me know and didn’t!” are two common refrains. Well, I have furniture now. I have a kick-ass sea-green sectional couch that is no doubt older than I am (galaxy designs), a rickety kitchen table, three chairs to go with that table (which looks a little silly), a child-sized desk I’m using as a bedside table, a broken drinks cart I found on the curb and managed to make sound with a couple bricks I found in a wheel barrow in the backyard, and a bamboo lounger. It’s a motley assortment, but full of character.
I started my new job the same week I got the furniture. My new job is in a beautiful, historic library stuffed to the gills with books, sculpture, paintings, and furniture. Beautiful, dark cherry wood desks with individual reading lamps, chairs from the 1800’s, a giant piano, oh and the bookcases, tall and beautiful with those cool little stairs that you can move around—and I want it all. I go to work and covet. I see a desk sitting empty, and I think “If that was mine, I’d use it.” I’ve never seen anyone play the piano there, but I’d play it—if it was mine. I’ve been contemplating getting a hatchback because it’d be easy to park, but easy fit a lot into. You see where I’m going with this.
There’s a 3 million dollar table in the vault that would be perfect in my sitting room. I mentally place other pieces around my home as I’m supposed to be shelf-shifting. I promised myself that I wouldn’t acquire so much stuff this time around because I don’t know when I’ll move again, but this apartment could be so cool. One promise I will stick to though, I’m not paying for a damn bit of it. If I can furnish my huge apartment for no money (except the cost of a couple lamps and a small shelf from Target)—that’s pretty resourceful, and awesome.