“George, I just made a serious impulse purchase,” I say on the phone, driving back to my house.
“You’re supposed to call me before that happens. How bad is it?”
“I went out for salmon and came home with a bed.”
“How? Where were you? What store sells fish and bedroom furnishings?”
“I pass this flea market every time I go to the farmer’s market, and today I was on my way to get salmon for dinner, just decided to stop by… long story short, I bought this big giant bed, and now it’s tied to the roof of my car.”
“What about the salmon?”
“George, the salmon is so not the point of this story.”
“I’m just wondering what you’re going to eat for dinner.”
My last bed was a hastily acquired when I left The Ex and moved into my own place three years ago. Actually, it was just a mattress and box springs I kept propped on cinderblocks. Very post-frat house bachelor pad. I might as well have had a poster of Jenna Jameson above the damn thing. After stubbing every toe on those damn cinderblocks, I went and bought one of those little metal frames on wheels. It felt like a step in the right direction.
But I’m approaching thirty. I’m getting married next year. I’m a homeowner. Hanging on to what was intended to be a temporary fix isn’t doing me any favors.
“You’re supposed to call me before that happens. How bad is it?”
“I went out for salmon and came home with a bed.”
“How? Where were you? What store sells fish and bedroom furnishings?”
“I pass this flea market every time I go to the farmer’s market, and today I was on my way to get salmon for dinner, just decided to stop by… long story short, I bought this big giant bed, and now it’s tied to the roof of my car.”
“What about the salmon?”
“George, the salmon is so not the point of this story.”
“I’m just wondering what you’re going to eat for dinner.”
My last bed was a hastily acquired when I left The Ex and moved into my own place three years ago. Actually, it was just a mattress and box springs I kept propped on cinderblocks. Very post-frat house bachelor pad. I might as well have had a poster of Jenna Jameson above the damn thing. After stubbing every toe on those damn cinderblocks, I went and bought one of those little metal frames on wheels. It felt like a step in the right direction.
But I’m approaching thirty. I’m getting married next year. I’m a homeowner. Hanging on to what was intended to be a temporary fix isn’t doing me any favors.
It’s really time for my big boy bed.
A few days later, I give a furnishing update when George calls again.
“Our mismatched nightstands looked so wrong with the new bed. So I replaced those too. But now I need new lamps. It’s Pandora’s freakin’ box, George, I’m out of control.”
“Well, darling, introducing a new item into décor can be a slippery slope. Next it’ll be new drapes and pillow shams.”
George is an expert on the subject. He spends his days clad in Prada and Gucci, hawking high-end Italian sofas to the wives of professional hockey players. The job pays well, but I’ve never known him to be particularly excited about going to work. I don’t think you’re allowed to be excited when you’re wearing Gucci. You might break a sweat. Better to be bemused and just leave it at that.
I don’t think George ever expected to be at his job as long as he has been. For months, he’s flirted with the idea of leaving and just starting over- a fresh start. But those aren’t as easy to pull off as countless made-for-television films would lead us to believe.
It’s a tricky thing, figuring out which things in your house, or in your life, are in need of an upgrade. Even more of a pickle can pop up when you try to determine when and how that change needs to happen. Because if you remove the temporary fix before the replacement is ready, it leaves a gaping hole.
A few days later, I give a furnishing update when George calls again.
“Our mismatched nightstands looked so wrong with the new bed. So I replaced those too. But now I need new lamps. It’s Pandora’s freakin’ box, George, I’m out of control.”
“Well, darling, introducing a new item into décor can be a slippery slope. Next it’ll be new drapes and pillow shams.”
George is an expert on the subject. He spends his days clad in Prada and Gucci, hawking high-end Italian sofas to the wives of professional hockey players. The job pays well, but I’ve never known him to be particularly excited about going to work. I don’t think you’re allowed to be excited when you’re wearing Gucci. You might break a sweat. Better to be bemused and just leave it at that.
I don’t think George ever expected to be at his job as long as he has been. For months, he’s flirted with the idea of leaving and just starting over- a fresh start. But those aren’t as easy to pull off as countless made-for-television films would lead us to believe.
It’s a tricky thing, figuring out which things in your house, or in your life, are in need of an upgrade. Even more of a pickle can pop up when you try to determine when and how that change needs to happen. Because if you remove the temporary fix before the replacement is ready, it leaves a gaping hole.
And we all fear the hole.
We’ll hang on to the wrong job, or boyfriend, or bed on cinderblocks because it keeps that space filled and we don’t have to deal with the hole. What we fail to see is that it really delays the joy of finding something better.
“You know,” I say to George. “Now that you mention curtains, I’m really not crazy about the shades in our bedroom. You should come over and help me figure out window treatments. I need a professional’s touch.”
“Then you’ll have to ask someone else, darling. I’m not going to sell furniture anymore. Beginning next week, I am moving the designer wardrobe to the back of the closet and starting work at a cupcake bakery.”
“You’re kidding. Cupcakes?”
“Picture it, Topher. The worst thing that could happen in the course of my day is ‘Oh my stars! We need more cupcakes!’, or ‘Someone burned the cupcakes!’ Either way the solution is still just baking more fucking cupcakes. After three years of stressing over ten thousand-dollar end tables, that sounds like the Promised Land.”
“I’m very proud of you, George.”
“Well, we’ll see if it turns out to be a temporary fix or my big boy bed, but for now it’s an upgrade, and that’s good enough for me.”
“My sentiments exactly,” I say as I lie down on my new bed, picturing all the free cupcakes I’m gonna score.
“You know,” I say to George. “Now that you mention curtains, I’m really not crazy about the shades in our bedroom. You should come over and help me figure out window treatments. I need a professional’s touch.”
“Then you’ll have to ask someone else, darling. I’m not going to sell furniture anymore. Beginning next week, I am moving the designer wardrobe to the back of the closet and starting work at a cupcake bakery.”
“You’re kidding. Cupcakes?”
“Picture it, Topher. The worst thing that could happen in the course of my day is ‘Oh my stars! We need more cupcakes!’, or ‘Someone burned the cupcakes!’ Either way the solution is still just baking more fucking cupcakes. After three years of stressing over ten thousand-dollar end tables, that sounds like the Promised Land.”
“I’m very proud of you, George.”
“Well, we’ll see if it turns out to be a temporary fix or my big boy bed, but for now it’s an upgrade, and that’s good enough for me.”
“My sentiments exactly,” I say as I lie down on my new bed, picturing all the free cupcakes I’m gonna score.
