I need a new couch.
I just decided this while sitting on said couch trying to think of something brilliant and witty to write in today’s post. The thing is though, that it’s Monday night and I have just had a rather large weekend that included great events like attending a brilliant friend’s film premiere at the Sydney Film Festival (fun!) as well as a big birthday party featuring a lot of jelly shots and karaoke.
I’m just gonna let you sit with that jelly shot sentence for a second. I know I had to.
Anyway, as you can now understand, I don’t have anywhere near the brain cell count to pull off brilliant and witty. So basically kids, if you’re looking for something to make sense today, you’ve come to wrong blog.
Why bother writing today at all then, you ask? Look savvy reader, that’s a good question, but I’m not up for answering questions today.
Back to the couch. A friend gave it to me and it’s late 60’s vintage in an aqua green. I love it. But it’s starting to look a little past its used by date. Faded in places, worn in others, lumpy on the top. I’m a little OCD about these sorts of imperfections. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to look at that worn patch before I start dreaming about it and end up having to get up at 3 in the morning to drag it outside where it can no longer infect my subconscious.
This is only a slight exaggeration.
I get obsessed. I can spend an hour adjusting the coffee table so that there’s the exact right amount of distance between the couch and the chair. And exactly centred.
I can’t handle it when things aren’t centred.
I wonder if I have a point today?
Ah yes, see the thing holding me back about getting a new couch is that it means I would have to own another thing. I have a problem with owning things. I’m like the opposite of a hoarder. The more things I own, the more anxious I feel. Owning stuff makes me feel tied down and committed. I always think ‘But if I buy a new couch, what will I do with it when I move to New York?’ and then ‘I’ll just have to sell it again and I’ll never make the money back. Let’s wait til we move to New York and then buy a new couch’.
It is important to note here (and will offer a small amount of insight into my personality) that I have no plan to move to New York. No plan to move anywhere. Hell, I don’t even have a plan to actually move off this couch anytime soon. However, it makes me anxious to think that I wouldn’t be able to do so at the drop of a hat.
I’m not kidding. You’re talking to a girl who wouldn’t buy herself a pair of knee high boots for years because they were too big of an item to fit into a backpack and therefore constituted commitment/tie me down fear.
I think this is the definition of a first world problem.
(I also think the problem is that I’m a bit of a tight ass).
Well, hey – at least I own boots now – I must be getting kind of a bit better.
But maybe not better enough for a new couch.
Anyway, I’m going to go on ahead and let you get on with your evening. I promise that next time you arrive here there will be more than a nonsense transmission. There’s an important week coming up and I gots things to say about it.
Just not tonight.
Tonight, I gots some staring at worn patches to attend to.