What I Will Never Be

I had never bought a piece of furniture from a store...until yesterday, that is. After seemingly endless hours (over a period of several months) perusing craigslist for a matching couch-loveseat combo that didn't have stripes or flowers or smoke smell, and finding little, Paul and I ventured out to Nebraska Furniture Mart and bought our first piece of "store furniture" as we called it. Yes, corporate america, we have detoured from our dumpster-diving, garage sale-ing, Freecycling Selves, and have sold at least a small part of ourselves in support of you.

We decided, though, that we could save money by picking them up with our own truck and trailer, and avoid the 59 dollar delivery fee. Getting them loaded was no problem - the countless burly NFM employees who load furniture as a living swarmed our trailer and hoisted it and secured it like professionals (I guess they are). The peculiar sight, however, was my little self trying to stretch my arms (which don't stretch very far I learned) around our couch, which was wrapped in 1) cardboard 2) plastic padding 3) plastic wrap (check out the pic above to verify my story). Not only was my wingspan considerably insufficient for the project, but the plastic wrap provided a significant lack of traction for grip. But after 1/2 an hour of grunting and sweating and "stop, Paul, wait"-s, we got our new couches into our living room. The pics are of our hearth/living room - it was hard to get a good view becuase of the angle. But for what it's worth, here they are. And I just might love them.

And the fabulous thing about last night, of all of the hundreds of ways I could see myself spending my life, I have ruled out moving furniture. And for that I am grateful.