I am a bachlorette. Every piece in my apartment was purchased by or given to me. For better or worse. And they are all functional. I cram them into my garret until my mother says, "You fit anther bookcase in there?"
And what? I don't have the cash to upgrade, and even if I did, did I mention I live in a third floor WALK-UP? Most of my furniture is IKEA, handed down from my Aunt Margaret, picked up on the side of the road, Goodwill, or yard sale.
So. I took a picture of my hideous sofa. Which I adore. Which I have spent many memorable and not-so-memorable and oh-I-wish-I-could forget moments and nights. I generally have it covered, but that blanket is MIA at the moment, so you get to see its absolute plaid hideousnesss. When I leave this garret, it will stay, as it took two men at least a half hour to maneuver it up to the last flight of stairs. And they were engineers! It's a hide-a-bed that I inherited from my old roommate's fiance, now husband. It was free. All I had to do was borrow my girlfriend's boyfriend and his truck. I know it's butt-ugly, but I love it.
A tour? From bottom left, my newest pillow. I think I got it at Burlington Coat Factory. Bottom middle, if you squint, you can see the blue and white comforter my mother made for me when I was a girl. Bottom right, the comforter that used to belong to my grandmother. Moving up, top right, a collage that needs to be pinned up. And a Barbie dream car, with Barbie inside. A purse, a magazine ad I liked, and top left, the certificate that says a sea turtle has been adopted in my name. He's probably ten now!
A little trick, now that I've resigned myself to "small" pictures so as to not screw up my template, if you want a closer look, click on the photo and you get a larger size. The things you learn...
Show and tell, courtesy of Blackbird.