Some have furniture FALL OUT OF THE SKY.

[maradydd]

Somewhere in my collection of unfinished stories, there is a piece entitled "Some Have Furniture Thrust Upon Them." It's a slice-of-life story, set in Houston, about a college-age couple in the process of moving in together. He comes from old money (well, as old as money gets in Houston anyway); she worked her way up from next to nothing and is fiercely proud of what she has. Neither of their families are particularly happy about the fact that they're dating (her parents think he's a snob, his parents consider her a redneck), so they're trying to keep the fact that they're about to cohabitate a secret. However, neither of them have enough furniture individually to fill out a 2-bedroom, so both sets of extended families take it upon themselves to foist as many hand-me-downs as possible on the protagonists. (Thus, the title: some are born into furniture, some acquire furniture, and some have furniture thrust upon them.)

So. Night before last, mycroftxxx, whimsywanderer and I were up far too late, and our conversation turned to the fact that I really don't have much in the way of furniture, and would likely feel much more settled in this apartment if I were to remedy that situation. (I have a bed, a shabby recliner, a desk and dresser, a dining-room table, and a foof couch, which is basically a beanbag large enough to sleep two. Note the absence of "chairs" in that list.) mycroftxxx reminded me that while we'd been out walking earlier that night, we had noted the presence of an office chair, in reasonably good shape, down by the laundromat a few blocks away. Seeing as how it was coming up breakfast time anyway, we decided to dress up warmly and sojourn forth in quest of the office chair, and fetch pastries from the coffeeshop on the way back. This we did, and now I have a burgundy office chair -- adorned with peculiar blue paint-pen runes, courtesy of some tagger -- functioning as a dinner-table chair.

Fast-forward to this morning, when whimsywanderer and I were headed out to breakfast. In the lobby of my building, we came upon a medium-sized papa-san chair, in excellent condition but for some cat hair and a small, fixable rip in the cushion. We resolved that if it was still there when we got back, we were claiming it, and lo, it was still there. Mine now! It now occupies the corner of the living room next to the radiator, in front of the boxed-up server that I really need to take out and test sometime, and it is very comfy. (I am sitting in it as I type.)

Thus, it would appear that the universe has heard my call for furniture and is responding accordingly. Dear universe: how about a fainting couch for the dining-room window? We really need a good seat there, and a fainting couch would be awesome. Thanks in advance! Love, Meredith.

Comments

[neoliminal.livejournal.com]

Check for squirrels on locations... not after bringing home any item. I am NOT saying this from experience.

Honest.

[t-bellwether.livejournal.com]

Here's hoping!! A fainting couch WOULD be perfect.

[theshadowsouled.livejournal.com]

Drive around to local apartments, you'll find one or three.

[dv-girl.livejournal.com]

I'd offer to try to help but I suspect all my furniture mojo is used up for this year after scoring a fully operational hydraulic dental chair for my friend's apartment.

Um.. I'm not at liberty to say why said friend would want something like that in the first place.

[bigby.livejournal.com]

MMMmmmmm Salvage furnishings... then there was the set of 20000lb each jacks I salvaged for five bucks at a grage sale.

[amberite.livejournal.com]

We have furniture thrust upon us. But then John's parents are antique dealers. There's a china-rack in the basement that when not dismantled looks like it wants to eat people.

Oh, hai: I'm doing flash fiction commissions again -- this time having set up a funky shopping cart dooadaddle for flood control purposes, so I'd be quite happy if you publicized this as you wanted to do last time around.