The things she carried
She no longer is.
Remember about a year ago when I started this electronic blog and ended my non-electronic relationship, I mentioned that Tim O'Brien collection of stories, The Things They Carried? It is the kind of collection that, for me anyways, makes me sob uncontrollably throughout its entire reading. Like stick-to-the-page-until-they-turn-brittle-and-yellow-and-so-seal-the-book-shut-forever kind of tears. That can be a good thing. A cathartic thing.
Well, in preparation for leaving Mudville--after seventeen years--I am hocking my wares on Craigslist. And the stuff I have been carrying around with me for all these years, I am now letting go of. Faster than I am prepared for. Faster than I can say goodbye to. So, in homage to these sentimental pieces with which I am now parting, I formallybid adieu.
The coat rack. Many people have enquired about this dandy little coat rack given to me as my good friend, The Writer, as he escaped from Mudville and headed towards that publishing capital on the Eastern Coast. The coat rack stood in the entrance to my house for many a year. People used it to hang their coats, their scarves, their purses, their hats, as they made themselves at home, and I, in turn, did the same. The coat rack had a warm presence of its own and sometimes in the middle of the night, I would think for a moment that someone was standing there. I loved nothing more that to hang my pork pie hat on it.
The turquoise-y bookshelves. These came in a pair and even from this slightly blurry picture you can see how sweet they are. A woman came and bought these shelves for her son's nursery. I find that a fitting ending to my relationship with them. It kinda felt like I was giving them up for adoption and that I had found them a very good home. The thing about these bookshelves was that they were always sunny, even when I was not. They often traveled from my bedroom, to the office or to the living room, depending on my needs. For the most part, they bore books. And they wore them well.
The wooden desk. Plain and simple. Comes with two drawers. This was my mother's desk when she split up with my dad and, for a brief period, lived in Florida. We were all happy when she came home. And I was also happy to be given the desk. The desk was pleasant to sit at, particularly when sitting on a wooden chair. It felt very writer-ly. There was a period when I used it as a bar in the dining room and that worked surprisingly well. It was just the right size.
The chrome lamp from Urban Outfitters. I was fine parting with this and I parted with it at a very low price. The funny thing about this lamp is that my boyfriend had the same lamp and when he moved in we suddenly had two of them and that was quite redundant. Then he moved back out and I was left with one lamp again. And that, my friends, is the short story of my life.
The ex-boyfriend's heavy oak swivel chair. This chair weighs a ton. It was left to me by an ex-boyfriend, the one who broke my heart back in college. It is rather fitting that I have been lugging around this chair for all these years. But I think I really am ready to let it go. It has, however, served me well: it's been sturdy, it swivels, it rolls. It has been a reliable and handsome piece of furniture. But, a chair without a desk is a lonely thing to be, indeed.
Which leads us to the bed. The heart of the nest you could say. And a bed which has been with me through two relationships and a few other courtships. A bed which many have come to look at, but none has yet to claim. A bed I am really hoping to now get rid of. When I first laid eyes on this bed in that little furniture shop that has long since gone out of business, I fell in love with it immediately. I don't know the story behind it, why it was reupholstered with the Chinese fabric nor when, but it was my first non-futon bed and it felt at once, both grown-up and old-fashioned. This bed needs a change of scenery. $125 OBO!
Remember about a year ago when I started this electronic blog and ended my non-electronic relationship, I mentioned that Tim O'Brien collection of stories, The Things They Carried? It is the kind of collection that, for me anyways, makes me sob uncontrollably throughout its entire reading. Like stick-to-the-page-until-they-turn-brittle-and-yellow-and-so-seal-the-book-shut-forever kind of tears. That can be a good thing. A cathartic thing.
Well, in preparation for leaving Mudville--after seventeen years--I am hocking my wares on Craigslist. And the stuff I have been carrying around with me for all these years, I am now letting go of. Faster than I am prepared for. Faster than I can say goodbye to. So, in homage to these sentimental pieces with which I am now parting, I formallybid adieu.
The coat rack. Many people have enquired about this dandy little coat rack given to me as my good friend, The Writer, as he escaped from Mudville and headed towards that publishing capital on the Eastern Coast. The coat rack stood in the entrance to my house for many a year. People used it to hang their coats, their scarves, their purses, their hats, as they made themselves at home, and I, in turn, did the same. The coat rack had a warm presence of its own and sometimes in the middle of the night, I would think for a moment that someone was standing there. I loved nothing more that to hang my pork pie hat on it.
The turquoise-y bookshelves. These came in a pair and even from this slightly blurry picture you can see how sweet they are. A woman came and bought these shelves for her son's nursery. I find that a fitting ending to my relationship with them. It kinda felt like I was giving them up for adoption and that I had found them a very good home. The thing about these bookshelves was that they were always sunny, even when I was not. They often traveled from my bedroom, to the office or to the living room, depending on my needs. For the most part, they bore books. And they wore them well.
The wooden desk. Plain and simple. Comes with two drawers. This was my mother's desk when she split up with my dad and, for a brief period, lived in Florida. We were all happy when she came home. And I was also happy to be given the desk. The desk was pleasant to sit at, particularly when sitting on a wooden chair. It felt very writer-ly. There was a period when I used it as a bar in the dining room and that worked surprisingly well. It was just the right size.
The chrome lamp from Urban Outfitters. I was fine parting with this and I parted with it at a very low price. The funny thing about this lamp is that my boyfriend had the same lamp and when he moved in we suddenly had two of them and that was quite redundant. Then he moved back out and I was left with one lamp again. And that, my friends, is the short story of my life.
The ex-boyfriend's heavy oak swivel chair. This chair weighs a ton. It was left to me by an ex-boyfriend, the one who broke my heart back in college. It is rather fitting that I have been lugging around this chair for all these years. But I think I really am ready to let it go. It has, however, served me well: it's been sturdy, it swivels, it rolls. It has been a reliable and handsome piece of furniture. But, a chair without a desk is a lonely thing to be, indeed.
Which leads us to the bed. The heart of the nest you could say. And a bed which has been with me through two relationships and a few other courtships. A bed which many have come to look at, but none has yet to claim. A bed I am really hoping to now get rid of. When I first laid eyes on this bed in that little furniture shop that has long since gone out of business, I fell in love with it immediately. I don't know the story behind it, why it was reupholstered with the Chinese fabric nor when, but it was my first non-futon bed and it felt at once, both grown-up and old-fashioned. This bed needs a change of scenery. $125 OBO!
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