Flicking through that Blackalicious album Matt made me a while back, I'm locked in the middle - Samson between the two pillars - of the apartment, working at putting things together, jigsaw-like, rather than letting them sit where they may and collect dust. In other words: I'm trying to set it up more. Things end up in piles, boxes, uncomfortable junk heaps and I do basically nothing about this state of affairs for months but I suppose I'm inspired because I bought this beautiful antique chair for sixty bucks the other day, chucking out my old desk chair in the process.
The new chair is fantastic, with spool-cut legs that are simple and elegant. The wood matches my writing table. The old chair was this callous, gold-leaf formica thing, Seventies Kitchen Table Chic, and had several large rips along the seat which were sealed with duct tape. The tape was beginning to peel. These things reach a certain point and then they have to go somewhere. Somewhere away from me.
That said, I'm a little perplexed. There isn't much storage here, which means I need to go through a cull a few items from my collection before I can much of anything, although I did switch the purely decorative (by this point) phonograph with the typewriter, so now I'll be sleeping with a typewriter beside my bed.
Symbolic, yes?
Anyway: I'm going to do a load of dishes and then head out to the grocery store to pick something up for dinner. Probably fish and pasta or something, with some vegetables. I've done enough on the apartment for today, I think, beyond that bag of trash to be taken out with me.