I don’t normally post too much about my personal life here, but this video of my boyfriend was too good to not share:
I know what you’re thinking, why is he sleeping outside? Its a gift really, he can sleep anywhere.
I go full Lebowski when it comes to my couch. Rugs, plants, chairs, TVs – with the wrong couch everything finds itself floating in abstract disarray, screaming, “Help me I’m lost in a rec room that was once or could have been, a living, working, breathing SPACE.
My first impulse when choosing a couch was completely wrong, possibly unsafe, and (luckily for my roommate) discontinued anyways.
The Bunk-Bed Couch, while brilliant in concept, does have that treacherous might eat you alive look, or at least seems like it could very well collapse while its inhabitants are sleeping. While this was a selling point for me, (guests are so unpredictable anyways), it was a firm no from many friends and loved ones who were naively approached by me with the idea.
And then I thought, having a couch should make an impression, it should communicate some deeper message about the inhabitants of the apartment. So a few examples such as these below, were submitted to the committee:
Feeling a little sheepish? Would you like to find yourself surrounded in wool, accompanied by three friendly sheep faces to keep you company? Or are you, as my boyfriend was, totally and completely creeped out by this suggestion?
Have you ever wanted to sit on a cat? A giant cat, without claws though, and one that can’t run away? Well, there’s just the couch for you (and me) the giant cat couch for basking in the sun all day while someone else fetches your food.
A clear choice for night owls, the coffin couch has just that right touch of macabre for a night after spilling the blood of innocents to satiate that that terrible thirst for blood so many of us are hounded by.
Named by Apartment Therapy, The Backpack Sofa, this one comes with an amazing amount of storage possibilities! Remotes within an arm’s reach, batteries for the remotes, magazines, snacks (obviously) and finally a rational place for all that loose change you like to keep in the couch.
How could I possibly choose with all these possibilities? Well, you might be surprised but the hunt continues. Somehow, all of these were nixed by couch-choosing committee and my roommate to be.
Would I drop 3K+ on Star Trek Enterprise coffee table?
You bet I would.
This is what is so great about Etsy and the internet. There is something for everyone, everyone for something and some amazing things.
Also, I found this:
Isn’t it incredible? Haven’t you always wanted one and never knew it existed, was tangible and you could have it?!
And its only $900!
My boyfriend doesn’t like it. And he won’t let me incorporate it into dinner dates.
He is the KING of non- Mad Inventor – fun.
AND, this is completely normal, btw, I know there are others out there, closet Trekkies and Mad Inventors pulling out their credit cards right now and living the dream!
“If you wrote something for which someone sent you a check, if you cashed the check and it didn’t bounce, and if you then paid the light bill with the money, I consider you talented.” – Stephen King
People who aren’t writers often say the darndest things, things like “I could never work from home, I wouldn’t get anything done.”
Which is of course ridiculous, with the amount of interruptions that occur all day in an office, the Zen environment of my laptop + pajamas + overly-complicated breakfast is the best formula for writing success, guaranteed.
Proof: I am working from home right now. I am also looking out my window and I can see the Pacific Ocean. From my desk at work I can see a whiteboard and people going to and from the kitchen, it doesn’t really compare.
One thing that does worry me about working from home is procrastination. Normally this is fine because procrastination methods like watching Netflix, surfing the internet, learning origami and baking unusual cupcakes all usually lead to writing fodder. However, that specific flavor of procrastination doesn’t really come out until the main procrastinating-demon-of-choice is first battled with and conquered, this demon is called: cleaning my apartment.
When I don’t want to write, my apartment is spotless, beautiful, resembling a temple with fountains and birds it is so damn clean. This only happens to me when I write from home and it takes hours to reach this kind of perfection. One minute I’m sweeping and the next the kitchen has been taken apart to be completely reassembled in a new and exciting way.
This urge never occurs to me in an office.
Which I suppose is a good thing because I don’t really know what my co-workers would think if they found me obsessively scrubbing the office kitchen’s floor and muttering to myself about how difficult it is to write under these conditions.
I am pretty sure this behavior would not go unnoticed.