I am happier right now than I have been in months and it’s ridiculous. It’s like when you’re super sick and slipping into a coma seems like a good idea because the pain and weakness are so bad that all you can do is cry. When you recover from something like that or, I imagine, get out of prison, the relief from misery is so intense you feel like it’s the best day of your life. It’s Wednesday for everybody else, but for you the world is beginning anew.
I’m having that day today…over a sofa.
I moved three and a half months ago and I didn’t feel like paying someone to cart my heavy, disgusting, “yes, I do have cats,” old sofa over to my new place. I couldn’t afford a new one after laying out a three month deposit and first month’s rent, so I’ve been doing without.
I work at home and I’ve been editing books on a folding chair. I watched season one of Veronica Mars all in one weekend, sitting on the floor. For a while, I seriously considered lawn furniture.
There was a cheap sofa on back-order, a second trip to Ikea during which I was seduced by the new, twice the price model and gave them all my money, and a two week waiting period to accommodate the delivery window. Then no sofa. It was like the time the orthodontist told me the braces were coming off next month and then nix nix. I was a mess.
I picked myself up, dusted off, and held my forked little tongue while I called the monolith to figure out the trouble. Amazingly, they admitted it was all their fault. And, as promised, it was delivered on a Sunday.
I know it seems small, that in fact it is small. I feel a tinge of guilt over my immense satisfaction. But the misery is over! I’m going to get in the shower, blow out my hair, and paint my face for the very first sitting.
Shit! What am I going to wear?
