I was just talking with Tim about the new desk. When I say “new” I don’t mean new. I mean we bought it from a friend and it has nicks, pieces hammered together and stains. It, like everything else we own, has flaws. The couch is clawed to hell cos … well I got it for free. The futon used to be nice….but the futon cushion itself is screwed, the new dresser from Brandi has blue paint all over it, the old dresser from Sigrid and Matt is missing a handle and is kinda wobbly, Tim’s parent’s old dresser is just plain old and ugly, the bed’s frame is all warbled and the bed itself was a gift from St. Vinnies when I broke my back. My desk is all nicked and beat to hell, the coffee table has ink all over it and …well it was a hippie xmas sale find and the varnish is starting to fade again. The coffee table-that-Tim-isn’t-to-sure-about and the chairs I got from Bear down the street is all eaten on the inside from some animal…shall I continue? No? I didn’t think so. Anyway, we were talking about this and
ha ha. Well, I guess it will be okay. I mean, it has some nicks and stuff…but what of our furniture doesn’t? I mean, there is something wrong with everything we have.
Yeah, we’re not ‘brand new’ kind of people.
but were aren’t the cool antique kind either.
No, we’re second hand.
We are second hand people. Dang.