Thursday, March 31, 2011


YG makes fun of me for getting really attached to my things like furniture and clothing, even when some (okay, most) of it is not very good stuff. Prior to YG, almost all of my furniture was hand-me-down stuff with the exception of a futon I bought after college and a couch that my ex-husband and I bought together, or he bought, and I was all, "oh, hey, you bought a couch."

I have no real eye for home decor or furnishings, even will all the designer-type people I am friends with. For example, I had no idea that window treatments or wall-to-wall carpet or track lighting were considered tacky, and even though I see things I like in catalogs, I have no real desire to improve my furnishings. Don't even get me started on how boring your kitchen renovation is. I've been content surrounding myself with three-legged dressers and hand-me-down tables and even beds because it has saved me the trouble of having to find things myself. And when I started living with YG, I was just grateful that he had some nice stuff.

We're currently in the process of making space for Z2 in Zygote's bedroom. To do this, we need to get rid of a large armoire that I inherited from my grandfather when I started living in my grandparents' Brooklyn apartment in 2001. It's not very pretty:

It's not real wood. It probably wasn't very expensive. And it's HUGE. But it's mine. And I remember it when it was in the Brooklyn apartment, caddy corner in the bedroom, filled with my grandfather's flannel shirts and polyester pants, always smelling like mothballs and cigars. I remembered when we left that place, my dad and I dragging this enormous piece of furniture out of his childhood apartment, to my new apartment in NJ. My ex-husband used it for his clothes, because the armoire was for the boy and the dresser for the girl. It was caddy corner in that apartment too because that was how it was supposed to be. It followed us to the condo we bought, and then it followed me up here to Massachusetts post-divorce, where it was caddy corner in my first apartment too, but finally filled with girl's clothes. Then it landed here, housing a could-outfit-an-army collection of ironic t-shirts I am too old to wear and baby clothes.

We posted it on Craigslist. Someone is coming tomorrow morning to pick it up. It seems silly to be sad about losing a piece of furniture you don't even really like, but well, I am.

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