I’m a Big Girl Now

Happy Friday, chickadees! Has it been one of those intermindable weeks for you as well? Where nothing terrible happens and there are no disasters (natural or otherwise) in your life, but Friday seems farther and farther with each passing second? It has been for me, but personally I’m chalking it up to something in my lizard brain reverting to wanting summer vacation.

As I may have mentioned, I moved back in with my (exceedingly generous) folks a few months ago to save up for a long-term home. While I love the fair city in which I lived – and still work – I’m literally saving thousands of dollars a month not dealing with rent, repairs and the siren call of Uber.

(Self control: I can haz none of it.)

And while I considered moving home to be a very adult decision, apart from the fact that it was made while I stood, crying hysterically on speakerphone while attempting to stem the literal wall of water raining into my apartment’s living room due to a 30-foot ice dam, as it turns out, I have a few things to learn.

Particularly about buying furniture.

Since I plan on moving within the next year or so, I figured the bed I bought to fit into my new room at the folks’ would be temporary. Something inexpensive, that could be recycled/donated/etc. when I’m no longer using it. So I secured for myself a pretty and attractively priced wooden frame, had it shipped home and congratulated myself on my $125 find.

Yeah. As it turns out, my low-slung platform bed? Was made for children.

Specifically, children under the age of 10 or under 70 pounds.

Which I maintain to this day was not noted on the website.

(It’s been fantastic for my self-esteem that the damned thing has lasted this long, considering it’s made of balsa wood and hope.)

And because I’m incredibly cheap when it comes to everything but clothes, it has taken me five months to come around to the fact that I should probably look into a new bed. The frame of my sad little guy is sagging, as every time I put my 10-pound tote bag on it, it replies with a generous creak.

The problem is, I’ve never really bought a piece of furniture. It’s expensive and it’s terrifying and people have always been getting rid of a couch or a chair the exact moment I needed one.

But, at the age of 26, it’s a bridge I have to cross. And so thanks to Wayfair (hello, best site ever), I will once more be sleeping in an adult bed on or by August 19.

Baby steps, chickadees. Baby steps.

Love,
Your Gal

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