Listen to Dido “Life for Rent” while reading this post or don’t read it at all.
The other night I hung my shower curtain with hair clips and was eating runny mac and cheese with an all-in-one camping utensil when I had the thought, “I’m not sure how much I should invest in my life in Arizona, but surely it’s more than this.”
Yes, surely it is.
I should get on that.
Then again, Caitlin and I have been saying we should invest in Malibu since day one, and a year later our apartment still consists of exactly three pieces of furniture:
2. The second-cheapest table Ikea has to offer
3. A striped futon which we lovingly call “the chastity futon” because nothing is happening on that thing
Often when people come over to our place in Malibu they go, “Oh, so you just moved in two minutes ago?”
No, actually, we’ve been living here for a year, we carefully planned our three purchases, AND that large empty space known as “the living room” is a soon-to-be fake yoga studio, thank you very much.
PS: Now might be the time to mention that I went to the store last week with the sole purpose of buying a can opener so I could, you know, survive, and it wasn’t until I came home that I realized I had bought a garlic press. Maybe it’s time to give this kitchen thing another go. I’m reaching new levels of ridiculous.
PPS: I should also add that if the fake yoga studio falls through (heaven forbid) we are hanging a disco ball in the living room, because that space is really only used to dance it out Mer/Cristina-style.