It's strange to think that after we moved here exactly one year ago we had hardly any furniture. The dining room was empty for six months and the living room for longer than that. That's what happens when you move from a tiny Brooklyn apartment to a three bedroom house. At first you think, "Oh, awesome, all this space!" But then you realize filling it will be difficult. It will take a long time. For some reason to us becoming adults meant having a house (it's rented, but still) and eschewing Ikea furniture. At some point we had to concede that we couldn't yet afford grown up furniture. Being firmly established in our 30's, we were not willing to give up on our notion of adulthood. So we built our own furniture. It was ill-conceived--we didn't know what we were doing. But somehow our table and bed came out alright. The perfectionist in me has a catalog of the flaws memorized in my head; but the romantic in me treasures these pieces, as they were built by us--husband and wife, together. Out of love. And fighting. There was some fighting too.
My dad bought us the couch, by the way. I need to tell you that before you go on thinking we're all grown up and independent. I thought when we moved here we'd have more money, but it turns out we spend any extra money on traveling. Because we live in Iowa. But anyways, my dad came for Christmas, and I think he was so touched by the pathetic emptiness of our home that he took pity on us. Also, I think he wanted a place to sit. So out we went on Christmas Eve to search for a couch. Unfortunately the joke was on him because the couch wasn't delivered for three months. We need to have him back so he can come sit on it. I still feel shame about the couch, but I guess a free couch is a free couch after all. And I did pick the cheapest one in the store.