Today was more productive than I expected, but also not even kind of productive because I failed to actually do the things I wanted to in favor of other tasks. It would be very easy to point out there’s quite a few hours left to the day, yes, but I would probably say something very unkind in response. I’ve hit that post-vacation wall of “I need a vacation to recover from my vacation”, which is only made more upsetting by my impending return to work tomorrow.
What I’ll probably do is break out the notebook and resume the world-building I should’ve gotten more done with this past week as some sort of compensation. I say this, but I also took over half an hour to write two sentences in this post because I keep yawning. And getting distracted (which is more the fault of my sad, nearly nonexistent attention span).
In light of what I didn’t get done today, I feel like I should at least sort of brag about what I did accomplish. It’s sort of a big deal, if only for me. Brianne and I went out on a great quest this afternoon. A quest (I keep trying to type that out as question instead, which might be a sign I’m too sleepy to really function as a person) to buy new living room furniture. It started off as an attempt to replace the two hulking recliner couches that we have presently, as they are heavy, quite battered, and sure as Hell not making the move to our new apartment with us. Also: I’m moving for the second time in less than two years, but that’s not really the focus of this post.
Perhaps it pains me to admit this, if only a little, but thanks to leading a relatively sheltered life that was spent mostly still with my family (and in the comfort of my parents house) I have never had to make any major furniture purchases for myself. The most major purchases I’ve made are typically electronics. Or the Care Credit card Brianne and I had to get when our cat Iroh mangled the shit out of himself on New Year’s Eve. This all ended up feeling pretty exciting and new at first, but by the end of the day it was mostly just a matter of finally picking the right goddamn furniture for our new place and getting the paperwork for financing that damn purchase done and over with.
We started at one furniture store, which I’ll not name out of some misplaced kindness. I say misplaced kindness because I may be trying to not be a complete asshole all the time, but it’s also hard to take an establishment seriously when this is one of the first displays visible upon entering.
Attempt number two, several hours and some measuring of our new living room later, brought much more success. As responsible, financially quasi-intelligent adults, Brianne and I purchased the promise of a sectional couch, a really nice chair, a new coffee table with snazzy drawers along its longer sides, and a ladder-style bookshelf. We paid with the promise of monthly payments, and after much contract-signing and so on we were on our way.
It still has some level of excitement, I guess, because it’s still a big step towards me pretending to be more of an adult. I’m still a writer who probably spends more time than he should laughing at fart jokes and being generally immature (I’m not actually saying that’s a bad thing, nor do I feel bad about that information), but I feel like I’ve accomplished something that’s more age-appropriate. This is the sort of thing I can be proud of while everyone around me is getting married and having children, because here I am with my new (shared) living room set that can be replaced, free of charge, in the event one of my cats decides to shit all over it.