Sunday, July 19, 2009

Will You Marry Me? No? Fuck. Have to Go Shopping Then.

For some time now—in fact, ever since I moved into my apartment in December—I have been trying to buy a couch. Despite the fact that I have a good job and despite the fact that I have money that I put aside to buy furniture and despite the fact that I live spitting distance from approximately five trillion furniture stores, I have not yet managed to do so.

This is not my fault. This is my stupid brain's fault.

I mean, I have tried to deal with the situation. I have tried to go shopping. The problem is that the moment I enter the furniture store, my brain starts to go apeshit. "Oy gevalt! Gila, these prices are so high! You can get a perfectly good couch second-hand. Look at Sarah's couches! Gorgeous! And she only paid NIS 2000! And you are going to pay NIS 6000 for a new couch? Are you insane? You think money grows on trees?"

My brain is right. Of course I should be buying second hand! So I leave the store and go home and log onto Yad Stayim or Janglo and do a search for couches and come up with a bazillion listings. At which point I am immediately freaked out by the very prospect of having to call all these people up and make appointments to see all of their couches and then drive all over Jerusalem checking out all their couches and then having to decide what couch to buy and then having to arrange for a mover to transport the couch and coordinate with the buyer to pick it up. And so on and so forth So then I tell myself "Gila, what do you need a couch for? You have Kayla's old chair and your rocking chair. Both are comfortable. You are one person. How many comfortable places to sit does one person need? This is an awful lot of work. Do you really want to do this much work? Do you have time to do this much work? Is this really that urgent? Can this wait a week or two?" And, of course, the answers to the last four questions are: no, no, no and hell yes. So I log off and tell myself that I will start to look next week. If I have time.

This has been going on for eight months now. And while I continue to be fine with my current seating arrangements (one person can do quite well with two comfortable places to sit) my friends—who have been waiting for eight months now for me to finally pull myself together enough to buy a fucking couch—are starting to complain. While they might not agree on an exact number for "how many comfortable places to sit does one person need", it would appear that the number is more than two.

But there is still the problem of my brain's aversion to fiscal irresponsibility and my own aversion to work. Acquiring a couch while keeping everyone happy is not easy task (as evidenced by the fact that I have not managed to do so yet). I have tried to be creative. At first, I planned to buy Katrina "Exercise Nazi" Yellow's couch when she went back to South Africa in October. Good couch, cheaper than new, no shopping AND knowing that I was helping out a friend. Yes, I would have to wait some months for it, but really, what a small price to pay. But then she decided to take her couch back with her to South Africa. So that idea is down. Then another friend asked me if I would be willing to baby-sit a futon couch for a few months. Granted, not a long-term solution, but an excellent delaying tactic. Kayla nixed that idea. "We are grown-ups now, remember? We do real couches. Not futons. Go shopping already!" I did not clarify the matter with her (because I was not sure I wanted to hear her response), but I am pretty sure that WE especially do not do couches which are currently being stored in the foyer of said friend's apartment building, because he does not have room in his apartment.

Finally, this Friday, I had a brilliant idea. I was visiting a friend who not only owns an entire set of couches—but also an apartment. "If I marry him", I thought, "then not only do not have to go shopping for a couch, but I do not have to go shopping for an apartment." On the down side, his couches are not really squishy enough for my taste. But then, marriage is all about compromise, no? And even thinking about the whole apartment buying and apartment renovation process is enough to send me straight into panic attack mode. Like the couch-buying process, just a thousand times worse. Would not the non-squishy couch would be a small price to pay for avoiding that particular little corner of Dante's hell? So I proposed, and he said "no" and I am back at square one again.

You know how they say that you miss your family in times of crisis? Completely true! It is times like this—my time of crisis— that I wish my hyper-organized, perfect sister lived close by. Unlike me, predictably, my sister has the whole home-ownership and home-furnishing routine down pat. If she were here, I would just hand her some money and she would do the Research Couches thing and the Visiting Couch Stores and Used Couches thing and the Making a Sensible Decision Based on the Data thing and the Purchase thing and Transport of Couch thing. And before you know it, there would be a couch in my apartment! And it would be tasteful! And in good condition! Because my sister does not do tacky crap. It would be like magic!

Umm…Mer? Wanna visit?