bought another used couch.
it was comfy and striped.
picked it up in a truck
that we rented for the night.
got to the apartment
and carried it to the door.
too wide; too tall.
now our couch is no more.
i feel dumber than ever
still sitting on the floor.

bought a used ikea couch

from some friendly-looking folk.

found it off craigslist
and man, what a joke.

because it collapsed.

cheap wood; bent bolts.

ikea. ikea. why you be so cruel?

now i sit on the floor.

and feel like a fool.

Sometimes I wonder if my preferences are really my own, or if I just like things because others (who seem to be similar to me) have expressed that taste. For example, I’m tearing open a new Elliott Smith CD (Either/Or) right now.

Could I persuade myself, and believe it just as truly, that I like Shania Twain?

Re: the below post. I always fall for these hipster things, don’t I? Ah well.

In other news… I’ve moved to another suburb of D.C. This one is in Maryland. I will miss my neighborhood, and the walk to the Metro past cute houses with blossom-filled gardens and happy dogs that run alongside you and kids that sell fresh tomatoes on the sidewalk in the summer. I will not miss the yuppie grocery store and feeling marooned in the wilds of Virginia and the flimsy apartment building I lived in. (A hurricane trap if ever there was one. Fortunately hurricanes were few and far between.)

I will find new things to like at the new place. Now I just have to unpack. Oh. My.

Bad karma. In the past few days, I have:

-Cut ahead in line at Metro turnstile
-Dropped candy wrapper in parking garage and didn’t pick it up
-Stepped on tired custodian’s just-mopped floor
-Stood up someone for a Craigslist purchase (I’m sorry, okay?)
-Almost shut the elevator door on someone

Little mean-nesses. Where do they come from?

“It’s nice to get a different voice sometimes. It makes you feel like a different person!” — my mom, on how I half-lost my voice this week

You know you’re in trouble when….

You’re discussing the terms of your new lease with the rental agent, and you’re asking about some technicality-filled provision. And the rental guy’s face is frozen in its pleasant grin the whole time. And you end your multi-faceted question with “…. is that correct?” And he replies, “Oh, I wasn’t listening.”

You know you are further in trouble when the same thing happens again fifteen minutes later, WITH A DIFFERENT RENTAL AGENT.