I moved this month. I have nothing but fond memories from living with my aunt and uncle for two years, but I finally felt like the time had come to accept some responsibility and go out on me own. I considered a walk-about instead, but decided the ticket to Australia and the consequential loss of my employment would be more financially distressing than beginning to pay rent... And then I paid my security deposit, first months rent, and furnished a room and thought twice about my decision.
My Mother came into town this week for various reasons, among them assisting her first-born son (Holla!) with his new residence. He will no longer refer to himself in the third person. We were trying to find a time to go to Ikea together to buy some furniture so I wouldn't have to sleep on cardboard boxes with a cereal box for a pillow anymore, but we just couldn't coordinate our schedules. We had evening plans all week and my day job totally got in the way of a trip to Ikea. Having a job once again reminded me that perhaps the Australian walk-about would have been a better option. Thousands of young, single male adults have been in this same situation before, but I can nearly guarantee you that none of them found the same solution as me. I am a pioneer in the field of male room furnishing. Here's what I did:
Me: "Mom. Take my credit card. Please buy me enough furniture to make my room look presentable. Do whatever it takes. Please don't spend more than $XXX."
Isn't she the best? I mean really, the Best. Actually, she had done extensive research previously, and even came down to DC with a to-scale model of my room drawn. She had cutouts for the different pieces of furniture she intended to recommend. She had print-outs of different chairs, desks, dressers, night stands, rugs, and lamps. We worked for over an hour trying to put the whole thing together while fitting in my budget. And then I sent her off with two other grown women- my sisters. They went to the store, bought a room, and brought it home for me to assemble.
I began the assemblage with only a tree stick and a rock. I used the rock for hammering and the tree stick as a screwdriver. When the screwdriver/stick broke I used my teeth until I got dizzy from spinning around in a clockwise fashion repeatedly. As I built my desk my hands were splintered, bruised, and then most surprisingly, cloned. Yes, at the conclusion of the contractor work I ended up with three hands. I'm still not sure what to do with the third hand, but I imagine it'll end up in a third world second-hand shop one day.
My mother/sisters' selections were fantastic. In fact I dare say they are an improvement on what we had drawn up with the diorama. Because I share the house with 5 other men my room is really the only space that is actually mine. As such it's very important to make sure it Hollas, if you know what I mean. I think I've succeeded at making it uniquely mine. You are welcome to come by and see it anytime, unless your name is Gertrude.
I had a request from some people to join my blog, so in attempt to make it easier I have attached a 'Followers' widget on the toolbar on the right. If you become a follower you get all sorts of goodies like a Holla Atchya! derby hat (not really), a Holla Atchya! tracksuit with gold trimming (just kidding), and a pair of monogrammed Holla Atchya! sneakers with the initials DHAB inscribed (I wish). In actuality if you sign up as a follower you get an email anytime I write a new post (I think).