In Loving Memory of My Couch

 I got my first apartment when I was 19 years old. I had none of my own furniture at the time so I got an Ashley Furniture credit card (four years, zero interest) and hit up IKEA for the rest. This was the beginning of me having my own stuff. I’ve been called a hoarder for years and I might be… but I’ve worked damn hard for my money and if I choose to spend it on something, I value that item. 

I am too stuck up to sleep on a used mattress or sit on someone’s used couch. I mean, seriously. Gross. I know what happens on my couch and mattress so I can only imagine what happens on someone else’s (...grow up). Those were both somewhat pricey investments. I can tell you that the $600 couch I got (that was black velvet material and oh so squishy) moved into that apartment, and then moved four additional times over seven years. It didn’t really look like it belonged in any of my apartments after the first, but I still loved and cared for it. 

WHY am I talking to you about a couch!? WELL because I just sold that couch. For $80. And after seven beautiful years together, it’s gone. I cried. I loved her but it was time to move on and get something that was bigger, more comfortable and not black velvet. 

Mind you I purchased a very soft black bunny rabbit because he matched that couch perfectly.

Sidenote: Carl is looking for a new home. He is mostly litterbox trained and very soft however he does NOT like being touched (held, pet, looked at) which makes him a bummer of a pet. But he does need space to hop and stuff so if you know anyone who is interested and doesn’t have a dog that would eat him, he would love to come live with them. He is fo free and will come with all of his belongings. 

So we might have touched on this before, but I do have an attachment to my things. I didn’t have a LOT growing up because my parents spent their hard-earned money to live in our amazing house and on dance recital costumes that cost more than your car. I had plenty of things but the ones I bought with MY money, that I spent hours on my feet serving assholes food for, are really different. I also crave stability and I haven’t had much of that besides those two blissful years before scumbag left with the dog, so my stability and my home is where my things are. 

I love my things. I have lots of things. I love them all. I use them all. I may have needed some and wanted others but they all have a purpose and my setup is pretty dope so please take your judgment elsewhere. 

Just wondering if it would be weird to ask the dude who bought the couch to send me pictures and updates? 

Maybe it’s because I’m my mother’s child and that lady treats her furniture like the queen is planning to use it next. It’s expensive! You don’t spend that much money on something and then let it get damaged. For years I wasn’t allowed to LAY on her fancy couch. The pillows were just for viewing. It was really more for show. In my house growing up, the dog did NOT get on the furniture. Now my sister’s pit mix treats that same couch like her personal chaise lounge BUT WE DON’T NEED TO GO THERE. 

So Wayfair had a sale this week and I updated my couch and got a coffee table. It’s perfectly okay to be an adult and have nice, adult furniture. If you’re still getting your stuff from an alley that’s up to you, but I’m a snob so my homes are allowed to look like established adults live in them. I also wanted a place other than my bedroom to relax and watch tv. Since the remodel, I do NOT leave my room. The living room furniture will remain in a corner of the living room as the rest of that room is still a “gym” but I’ll take what I can get. 

I do happen to enjoy only having to walk several feet in order to workout. 

I did TWO 20:4 fasts this week. That’s hours not eating to hours eating. I got to eat mid-afternoon both of those days so by the time it was dark out and I had worked, worked out, showered, and sat down to do homework and hate my life, I was also starving and wanted to die. 

Trying to balance a full-time class load (that means I have as much school as people that attend classes, full-time) and have a job which is only three days a week until I can find another, and exercising, is like driving away from a car accident just to get into another. I’m not talking speeding tickets here, we aren’t my sister who has managed to be pulled over twice back-to-back (or maybe it was my mom? Wouldn’t hire either of them to be a personal chauffeur). I mean full-on car accidents. You’re driving home all shaken up, thankful the car will drive even though there’s plenty of expensive damage, stressed out and upset, just to catch a Trump supporter who blew a red light on his way to a gun sale and BOOM. Hit again. That is how I feel. Every. Day. 

I just realized that it’s Sunday afternoon and I haven’t left my apartment since I got home Thursday night. I went for a “run” Friday afternoon to combat the calories I would consume via Pizza all weekend but I didn’t leave the block. Someone, please send me hugs and money for a tropical vacation. 

I realize that if I spent every moment that I wasn’t working or sleeping or exercising doing homework that I wouldn’t be so far behind but you have to understand that what’s left of my sanity is at stake here and it has been for a very long time. Like May 2019 long time. I mainly assemble furniture to relieve stress and yesterday, get this, I read an entire chapter of a book that wasn’t related to school. FOR LEISURE. 

Is my life significantly worse than anyone else’s? No. Well, men, but that’s because they aren’t at risk of losing free birth control and the right to choose because they don’t fucking have to. Also, as someone who identifies as bisexual, I think we can all come together and cry over our rights that are about to be stomped on with the new Supreme Court nominee. I rarely get political in my blog but as I sit here and suffer I wish some things were going right in the world. 

Don’t forget that I hope these posts are read one day, as Anne Frank’s diary was, as a way to understand 2020 through the eyes of a young woman who doesn’t know how to TikTok. I’m not better than anyone but I do take pride in being slightly different from the girls who haven’t posted a picture of themselves without some sort of filter over it in years. I genuinely wonder what some of you actually look like. I don’t post a lot of pictures of myself at all because I don’t understand why anyone would want to see some unshowered dumpster kitten with both of her chins who closely resembles a zombie most days. It’s loose sweater season now and I AM HERE FOR IT. 

One of my classes right now is about inspirational and functional leadership and I’m wondering if I will ever get away with telling someone to do their job well because otherwise, they won’t be able to afford good alcohol and cigarettes to help them cope with their life. I don’t know or care what your DOC is but try living without it and let me know how that goes for you.

I feel like all of the happy people reading this who don’t know the struggle or what DOC even stands for are really judging me. 

We are watching some people’s cats for the next month, which will be the first time I have ever lived with cats so stay tuned for my reactions to that. I’m the monster who wouldn’t take them unless they were declawed because my new couch ARE YOU PAYING ATTENTION. 

Okay seriously I could word vomit forever here but it would terrify you to see how many papers I need to write right now despite my lengthy email to one professor about how I’m behind because last week I was nearly blind. This is me getting caught up on stuff. I must now go read important words on how to lead the people.

Hartl out.