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Wear yourself out by listening to me go on and on about furniture

Written by Alison | November 12th, 2008 at 9:15 pm | Comments


Earlier today I had a whole temper tantrum inside my own head and decided that when I got home I would write a blog post entitled “I don’t know how I feel about my couch. P.S. I’m neurotic and going to die alone.”

Then I found out that title had already been taken so I had to go with the one above.

See, I’ve been going back and forth on this couch. Not literally. On the upside, it’s comfortable. On the downside, sometimes I look at it and think “it looks like barf.”

But considering how goddamn long I took to decide and how annoying I was about it shouldn’t I just love it? Love it to pieces?

Because I don’t. But I think I like it. Maybe? I don’t know. I like it better now that I bought throw pillows for it (I haven’t decided which ones I like, hence the three different pillows.) Earlier tonight I decided I’d go with a silver, gold and white theme which is neato and, um, yeah. Neato’s all I got on that one. Fancy? Neato and fancy? I could do neato and fancy. And secretly Christmasy.

But then sometimes I look at the couch and think “it looks like a giant gum eraser.” I also think it looks like liver and I also think it looks like steak that’s been chewed up and spit out. Also: gristle.

But then I see it in photos and I think maybe it’s ok.

See, complicating matters is the fact that the delivery men nicked it in a couple spots so C&B offered to replace it. I explained that it was kind of difficult to get it into the space so they’re sending someone out to look at it here to see if he can patch it up in situ. What does in situ mean? Hold please.

God I’m smart.

Um, yeah, so anyway, if I act fast I could get this big gray menace out of my apartment and my life forever and then I could invite something else into my living room that I will go nuts about. Seriously, I’m sick and tired of myself.

But it’s not like I never like anything ever. When I look at my bed, my white duvet covered bed, I feel calm and good. I don’t have this crazy ping ponging meat-comparison making reaction happening.

Yet I’m not at peace with the decision to just return the fucker either. That makes me anxious too.

Let’s talk about my last apartment, shall we? I moved into it under duress. I wanted to stay in the apartment I was in before that, my first real apartment in New York, but it’s a long story and that wasn’t feasible so there my sister and I were, needing to find an apartment or break up and she had a friend who was vacating this great apartment in the village and we went and looked at it and because I couldn’t find anything else I said yeah, that’s fine. But then before we pulled the trigger I began doubting the decision and was freaking out and begged a friend from work who was later my boyfriend, unless he was already my boyfriend at the time, to go look at the place with me. We did and he reassured me that it was a great place and I would be happy there.

Sadly it was a terrible place and I was miserable there.

Or rather, it was a pretty decent place but I wasn’t happy there anyway. I never liked that apartment or that neighborhood. Also, there were mice. Oh my God, my couch looks like a big sheet of mice.

So I was thinking about all this this morning and thinking that if I’m having doubts about the couch, instead of letting myself be talked into it, I should just honor those doubts and not keep the damn thing and just wait until I find one I really feel good about.

But then sometimes I look at it and I like it.

And it’s comfortable. It’s really comfortable.

So then why not just get it in a different color?

Because that will take 12 weeks. And plus I’m trying to avoid having people remove it and bring in another one but I’m not sure why I’m trying so hard to avoid that. I mean, just because my idea of hell is moving furniture doesn’t mean that someone whose job it is to move furniture feels the same way.

But still, I just feel like I’m doing it. That thing I do. I don’t know what that thing I do is which makes it hard to know whether I’m really doing it, but I suspect I am. I mean, this feels very me in the extreme. I hate extreme me.

I’m also trying to see if it’s possible to get slipcovers for this couch. I mean, I know you can order them from C&B for about a thousand dollars but for that much, I may as well just get a different couch.

Still reading? I’m sorry to put you through this. On the upside… um…. well okay technically there is no upside. Oh wait, I know! Today I saw a woman pushing two black poodles in a stroller!

Also, I’m aware there’s a world that exists outside me and this couch. I find that annoying, too.


And then I see this photo and I like it again.


I also like ducklings.


Here I am not thinking about couches.


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