Having now a house that i adore, i am more interested than ever in filling it with things i desire. Yes, in the past i’ve wanted that shiny piece of electronics, or that solid piece of furniture, but the space that i existed in never really invited them. Now, though… now i am dangerous in every store, because where there was once just a speculative glance at any item, wondering how it would fit into my household there is now a lustful fingering of my credit card, knowing that i can fit it under the limit.
Not good for my line of available credit, but seems to be setting us up for some wonderful entertaining and music-making opportunities this summer.
In related news, i know that i can’t carry the sectional couch on my back all the way from Snyder Ave (and probably can’t even lift the corner of the box two inches off of the ground), but i’ve almost convinced myself that i can haul the flatpacked desk from Ikea up Front Street as if i was a pack mule. This is, however, not a good idea.
Not a good idea, Peter. Not a good idea.