Because Your Couch is Ugly, That's Why

Back when I was poorer than I am now I would rent these beautiful but tiny apartments and then die a little inside when I had to move in all my crappy furniture.

Now my situation is a little different. I, again, have a beautiful but tiny apartment and I have to go through the reverse agony: choosing which pieces of furniture to take and what to leave behind. I can take the red couch, for instance, but can I also take the matching chair? What would the couch without the chair look like? Would the piece-here-piece-there symbolically represent something... bad? Should I scrap this blog-post and start over?

Probably.

I shouldn't even be worried about this. There's an unspoken agreement about whose is what, and then there's the mutual rejection of, say, that baby-blue dresser. Whoo boy. Start a fire, as far as I'm concerned. But all of my things are so obviously mine: they reek of me, really (not in the smelly sense; I am a clean and delicate lady), and if I don't take them, they should probably go somewhere... else. No one wants to invite a woman over for dinner only to have her say, "Hey... where'd you get those weird couches?" and then you'd have to explain your ex-girlfriend's bizarre theory of living room aesthetics, and how she should have seen the LAST set of couches, and how much the old girlfriend really LOVES these couches but they didn't fit in her new apartment, and how she would fly into a murderous rage if anything were to ever, EVER happen to them. And then the woman would be like, I think those couches are watching me.

Crazy lady. They're just couches!

But! Those couches are such a bitch to move, I thought I'd look around for something affordable and pleasingly new to my sensibilities, but YOU KNOW WHAT? PEOPLE ONLY SELL UGLY THINGS ON CRAIGSLIST.

This post is dead.