Anew Furnishing

Okay, now that my garage sale was over, I had gotten rid of lots of my junky, retro, “old enough but not classy enough to be antique” furniture. I had nothing when I moved into my new condominium. Nothing except the 200 boxes of stuff I couldn’t live without, miscellaneous furnishings and a shoe collection that would make Imelda Marcos drool. Now, I needed to refurnish. Isn’t why everybody moves—to buy new stuff? Perhaps it would be cheaper to go on a shopping spree, but then I wouldn’t have had the cultural experience of visiting a foreign language (through my movers), or giving away money as if I was Imelda Marcos.

Like Imelda, I needed more (in her case it was shoes, in mine it was furniture). So, I made a list. I needed a wall unit (to fit at least 100 boxes of my precious “stuff,” plus the new stuff I would have to buy), a dining set to make my condo rental (you never truly own a home—it’s just a temporary “live-in” situation) and a couch for me and my friends to watch the only form of entertainment I could afford after moving (network television). I had chairs (though old, used and stained—I planned on getting them refinished—though the refinisher loved them so much in their stained condition, he almost kept them for himself—that’s another story!).

All I needed now was a plan of attack—should I buy contemporary (stainless steel with a few scratches thrown in to lower the cost) or antique (wood with a few scratches thrown in because, to add “character,” and lower the cost) or should I go shopping for anything that struck my fancy? I decided to do it the right way, make a list, take it with me, then toss to the wind when I found something I liked. My philosophy of life is that—lists are made to be broken! (I should know: so far I’ve broken 22 chain letters, gotten cancer, diabetes, and severe glaucoma—from reading all those chain letter emails and not forwarding them on!). But as I said, I made a list.

What did I like:
Stainless Steal
Stained Steal
Hardwood
Fake Wood
Granite
Pee Gravel
Cat Pee (no—I prefer dog pee)

Okay, so my furniture tastes were eclectic—which defined means—anything and everything that once roamed/existed on the earth, the moon, the sun, or in a black hole (since that’s where all my money was going with the move) . It could be anything living or dead, fake or real, prehistoric or modern. But at least I had a list. Eventually, this list would end up where all my other lists ended up—in a file—never to be seen or looked at again (it’s a great filing system—nothing ever gets lost, because nothing is ever found).

But with this list, I went to about 29 furniture stores. “Oh, that’s cool,” I’d say. “That piece is also neat. But not at that price.” Maybe I should tear a corner, or scratch a leg, or crack a piece of that tile—then they would give it to me at a discount. Yeah, I thought, but then it would be just like all that other furniture I had to pay someone to haul away. Instead, I pulled out my 22 and shot everyone in the store. Not really, but I figured I was a worthy soul, and I should act like Robin Hood—steal from the ridiculously expensive furniture stores and give to myself. Instead, I got a credit card. I figured, I already had a ton of outstanding bills from the move, why not make some more. And I bought some wonderful furniture—stuff I hope lasts until I finally pay off those bills. My rough estimate is that by September 5, 2015 I will have paid off all my moving bills, including the furniture. I can become debt free five years quicker, if I don’t eat, drink, or buy anything other than underwear and sox until then.