Ode to the Couch
So I'm moving at the end of the month into a new apartment. It's in the same building that Nicki lives in (NOTE: we are not living together -- she's a very nice Catholic girl, thank you very much). But the idea is that I can save some money for the wedding, and it'll be easier for Nic and I to spend time together. The only catch is that this apartment is significantly smaller than anything I've lived in since my sophomore college dorm.
(Actually, that's not totally true: there was the first place I got out of college, where I was rooming with my buddy Jerod in a single room that was so small, it could only fit our two beds and his desk, which he couldn't sit at because the beds were wedged up against it. Seriously -- you had to walk across the beds to move around the room. But that only lasted about 3 weeks until I was evicted. And THAT -- is another story...)
This new place is what's known as an "efficiency". In most major American cities, that means that everything except the bathroom is contained in one room. Evidently, landlords consider that very "efficient". The exception to this rule is New York City, where the bathroom IS in the same room, there's no kitchen, and your friends are jealous because you were sooooooo lucky to find such a great place. But I digress...
What this move means is that it's time to purge -- time to get rid of alot of my bachelor furniture, because it just ain't gonna fit in this new apartment, and it definitely ain't worth paying for storage! What do I mean by "bachelor furniture"?
- The coffee table that I rescued before a buddy threw it in the dumpster (it looks like his high school shop class project).
- The "computer table" I made out of a cracked tabletop and 2 sawhorses.
- The two gear racks I scavenged from my first job with the record company (back when I was living with Jerod in Trampoline Hell).
- The ugly blue dresser I bought from Ikea (yes, I did buy some furniture!) that refuses to die the oh-so-common "Swedish-chipboard" death that I expected to occur at least three moves ago.
- The bookshelves that I got from another buddy's fiancee when she was doing her pre-matrimonial purge... hmmm... that marriage only lasted 2 years... maybe it's a good thing I'm getting rid of those...
- And, of course, it's time to get rid of the bachelor couch. The couch I got for 50 bucks when I first moved to Chicago. The couch that many a good man has cursed while attempting to force it up (or down) a narrow three-story walk-up stairway. (FYI: free pizza and beer are a meager reward when you're the guy who's gotta help with the f&^%ing couch...)
I've watched many a DVD from that couch -- played many a video game. I've passed out on that couch at the end of many a too-tired-to-get-up-and-go-to-bed night, and there have been many out-of-town guests who've crash out on that couch. I've wooed many a young female on that couch, and I've struck out with even more. I've laughed on that couch, I've cried on that couch... well actually, I've never really cried on that couch... BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER -- purging that couch is a significant event.
"In God's name, WHY?!?" you ask?
I'll tell you.
Because chances are, when I move out of this "efficiency", and I have space in my new place for less-efficient furniture (like say, a couch), it won't be MY couch -- it will be OUR couch. And it definitely won't be the spaghetti-stained, don't-turn-over-that-cushion kinda couch that typifies THAT couch. Mark my words -- this is a line in the sand that is being crossed -- a threshold that is being passed over. This couch is a symbol of my independence. A historical relic of my too-few hours of leisure. It's an icon to bachelors everywhere.
Ladies and gentlemen, it's the end of an era.
If anybody wants to carry it down the two flights of the back fire escape from my old place -- it is all your's.
a dramatic reinactment of the forementioned couch. My couch actually looks nothing like this...
(Actually, that's not totally true: there was the first place I got out of college, where I was rooming with my buddy Jerod in a single room that was so small, it could only fit our two beds and his desk, which he couldn't sit at because the beds were wedged up against it. Seriously -- you had to walk across the beds to move around the room. But that only lasted about 3 weeks until I was evicted. And THAT -- is another story...)
This new place is what's known as an "efficiency". In most major American cities, that means that everything except the bathroom is contained in one room. Evidently, landlords consider that very "efficient". The exception to this rule is New York City, where the bathroom IS in the same room, there's no kitchen, and your friends are jealous because you were sooooooo lucky to find such a great place. But I digress...
What this move means is that it's time to purge -- time to get rid of alot of my bachelor furniture, because it just ain't gonna fit in this new apartment, and it definitely ain't worth paying for storage! What do I mean by "bachelor furniture"?
- The coffee table that I rescued before a buddy threw it in the dumpster (it looks like his high school shop class project).
- The "computer table" I made out of a cracked tabletop and 2 sawhorses.
- The two gear racks I scavenged from my first job with the record company (back when I was living with Jerod in Trampoline Hell).
- The ugly blue dresser I bought from Ikea (yes, I did buy some furniture!) that refuses to die the oh-so-common "Swedish-chipboard" death that I expected to occur at least three moves ago.
- The bookshelves that I got from another buddy's fiancee when she was doing her pre-matrimonial purge... hmmm... that marriage only lasted 2 years... maybe it's a good thing I'm getting rid of those...
- And, of course, it's time to get rid of the bachelor couch. The couch I got for 50 bucks when I first moved to Chicago. The couch that many a good man has cursed while attempting to force it up (or down) a narrow three-story walk-up stairway. (FYI: free pizza and beer are a meager reward when you're the guy who's gotta help with the f&^%ing couch...)
I've watched many a DVD from that couch -- played many a video game. I've passed out on that couch at the end of many a too-tired-to-get-up-and-go-to-bed night, and there have been many out-of-town guests who've crash out on that couch. I've wooed many a young female on that couch, and I've struck out with even more. I've laughed on that couch, I've cried on that couch... well actually, I've never really cried on that couch... BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER -- purging that couch is a significant event.
"In God's name, WHY?!?" you ask?
I'll tell you.
Because chances are, when I move out of this "efficiency", and I have space in my new place for less-efficient furniture (like say, a couch), it won't be MY couch -- it will be OUR couch. And it definitely won't be the spaghetti-stained, don't-turn-over-that-cushion kinda couch that typifies THAT couch. Mark my words -- this is a line in the sand that is being crossed -- a threshold that is being passed over. This couch is a symbol of my independence. A historical relic of my too-few hours of leisure. It's an icon to bachelors everywhere.
Ladies and gentlemen, it's the end of an era.
If anybody wants to carry it down the two flights of the back fire escape from my old place -- it is all your's.
a dramatic reinactment of the forementioned couch. My couch actually looks nothing like this...
1 Comments:
Hey man, I understand the whole moving into the same building thing. Jenny and I have the same plan for after we graduate...saves gas between the two places and, well, we're both good Catholic folk, too...lol. It's a big step you're making, and I wish you the best.
--Travis
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