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I have a coffee table!

Jun 20, 2004 by glennji

I have a coffee table!

This is a small, but significant, achievement – ever since I moved out of my parent’s house to go to Uni, it seems like I’ve been living a temporary life …. actually, that’s more than just a little dramatic; it’s more like long-term student-living, using whatever hand-me-downs and left-over housey stuff (including crockery, cutlery and furniture) happened to be available. And that’s fine, whilst you’re a student. Nobody wants to pay for a couch that one of your friends – or indeed yourself – will disgrace him- or herself on, after all. (Trust me, it has happened. Damn you, “Clint’s friend”, wherever you may be.)

We (Dee and I) used to live in a warehouse in Brunswick, big place, far too expensive. So expensive, in fact, that we couldn’t afford to buy anything, including furnishings … so we had a large, multilevel apartment with little more than an op-shop couch, a home-made table and a old packing crate. Oh, and the bed and mattress, of course, which was later to move to our new (much smaller) home in the back of the car – yes, we folded a queen size mattress into a single-bed-sized boot (I think Americans call it a trunk? What is it called in the UK?), very good for the inner springs, as I’m sure you can imagine – and here we’re staying until the big move. (Should that be “Big Move”, with capital letters providing the much needed emphasis?)

Of course, our current apartment is much smaller. Much smaller. Small enough that we should be able to furnish it, which is good, and with an appropriately scaled rent to boot. Despite this, the imminent move (to Edinburgh, for all those not paying attention) has put us/me in a kind of stasis: not wanting to buy furniture, to “settle”, but at the same time wanting to be comfortable.

Dee says, “This is what I want to write … Friday night, I went out for a bucks night – side bar, listening to my favourite Counting Crows – and I had a fantastic night (I was with my baby!) … and I noticed the guy across from me was making eyes. Good friend of Tim’s (the buck). So I was sitting there, next to my soul mate (awwwww), not knowing where to look, and I think to myself, “I remember the courting game,” and I look to Glenn and I think, “You know what, I don’t care … honestly, I really don’t care. I’m going to come back home; I’m going to nestle into the little space between his head and his shoulders; and I’m going to be home.”

“And, ever so slowly, a grin will steal across my face. And at that point, I’m going to feel sorry for every sucker in the city who HASN’T found someone … someone they connect with … someone they know … someone to love, inside and out (she loves my guts!! Hurrah!) …” At this point, Dee is reading what I’m typing and thinks, perhaps rightly, that I’m completely up myself.

Ah, it’s good to be young and free, and lets not think about tomorrow for a little while okay?

BTW: I think I’m going to need to go hunt down some guy who works at Coles (it’s a supermarket here) and beat him up, or at least look at him sternly and then pretend I’ve beaten him up, just for looking at “my girl”. I guess, despite thousands of years of evolution, we haven’t really changed so much …

Mental note: don’t write whilst Dee is reading over my shoulder from now on. Good for accuracy, as well and brevity.

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