I am lounging on my new couch, and it certainly is luxury at its finest. It’s actually only a two-seater, and it’s used, but I have been waiting seven months to own my own piece of cushioned furniture, and now that the day has arrived I am taking full advantage of it.
Prior to owning a couch I owned one wooden chair that was set up at my kitchen table, which is actually a folding table most people would use for camping (and somebody gave me for free, or is letting me borrow, I don’t even know.) I also own one camping chair that is kept in the corner of my tiny home and only set up for guests or if I felt the desire to sit in “extreme comfort,” which meant I sat in the camping chair and used the wooden chair as an ottoman. That’s what we call a camel couch.
I guess I’m just not that into acquiring furniture. When I first moved to Denver I slept on an air mattress for eight months and the only reason I finally got a bed was because my then-roommate moved in with his girlfriend and gave me his full-size bed for free. And, not to sound like a total wook, but some boy I talked to while waiting in line at the health clinic gave the air mattress to me for free, too, because I told him how my own mattress got a hole and I woke up on the floor that morning, and he just so happened to have an extra one in his trunk. It’s not that I don’t have the funds or the knowledge to acquire furniture; it’s just not something I put that much thought into…plus I have to find someone with a car to drive me to pick up said furniture, and that’s not exactly on everyone with a pickup truck’s to-do list.
My independent home situation has often times reminded me of literary writer Henry David Thoreau, who said he had three chairs in his house; one for solitude, two for friendship and three for society. In his 1854 book Walden, Or, Life In The Woods, Thoreau describes his home life as such, “My furniture, part of which I made myself—and the rest cost me nothing of which I have not rendered an account—consisted of a bed, a table, a desk, three chairs, a looking-glass three inches in diameter, a pair of tongs and andirons, a kettle, a skillet, and a frying-pan, a dipper, a wash-bowl, two knives and forks, three plates, one cup, one spoon, a jug for oil, a jug for molasses, and a japanned lamp. None is so poor that he need sit on a pumpkin. That is shiftlessness.”
I see a lot of possibility for me with this new couch. When I come home and I’m tired I won’t have to choose between sitting on the wooden chair or climbing the ladder to my bed in the loft. I can start watching movies. I can tell someone “Yes, in fact I do have a couch you can crash on tonight (but you have to bend your legs).” I can sit and stare out the window. I can lay and read a book. I can put my laptop on my lap and write a blog!
Man, couches are quite inspiring.