Remember The Carpet

My normal state of being oscillates between lethargic indecisiveness and hyper-active impulsiveness. Sure, months can go by with minuscule amounts of decision making and then, wham, out of nowhere, "WE MUST BUY THIS GIANT RUG RIGHT THIS MINUTE!"

My life in a nutshell, people.

On a conscious level, I knew that buying an 8' x 11.5' faux vintage carpet sight unseen from One Kings Lane was maybe not something that had to be done in August when I was staying with Spiros in Berlin, a million miles away from our future life together, but my passion for spending money to "get such a great deal on something so perfect!!!" was not to be smothered by either of our voices of reason. (In his defense, Spiros does put his foot down when I'm being totally crazy, but he was supportive of my mid-day "Can we buy this!?!? email. Or scared of me? Either way.)

So the carpet was shipped to my parents' house in Austin. (I might have forgotten to warn them that it was coming? Confusion ensued. Agreement that I'm crazy ensued. Blah blah.) The plan was to just stick it in the back of the car and drive it to LA with us. Obviously it didn't fit because my life is a giant sketch of comical mishaps. (Luckily it wasn't too much drama to unroll it, fold it up, and place it on top of the boxes instead.) (Did I mention I waited until Spiros came in town to unroll it and they had sent us the WRONG rug? And it was past the return date? Lol my life, right? Luckily the one they sent is more neutral and probably a better choice, I tell myself.)

Anyway, fast forward to now. Here we are, camping out in corporate housing, decorated with hotel-esque furniture, staring longingly at the rug in the corner of the room. There it lays patiently, slowly being covered with the really great deals on lamps and lampshades and a random blue ikat tray I just couldn't pass up.

With each new purchase added to the pile, I realize that everything we move into this place will have to be moved out again. I understand we don't know where we're going and what we really need. (Except, we obviously needed that French Bulldog lamp, I mean c'mon, how perfect is that?)

I know I have to suppress that same obsession that led me to buy the carpet. That maniacal money spending. The Pinteresting. For the love of all things Martha, I must stop. Until we know where we are going and when (and I get my freelance paycheck from this summer), I have to force myself out of Home Goods and away from World Market. And if you really love me, please contact Target and let them know if I show my face again one more time (after this afternoon, because we currently have like eight hangers and it is getting ridiculous) I will be banned for life.

This is a cry for help.

My happy place...? (Taken pre-third trip to Target extravaganza)

Just kidding I'm fine. Want to go to Ikea?