housing works vs. cb2: a story of self-restraint

On a thrifting excursion around my usual haunts this weekend, I came across a heart-stopping piece at Housing Works. A gleaming lucite coffee table. First thoughts? OH MY GOD I HAVE TO HAVE IT.

Of course there was a little problem.... the price tag. $350. Sure, I've been googling and Craigslisting trying to find one of these for months with no luck. But $350? I tried to forget about it.

I went home.

I read all my fashion magazines.

But when I got into bed, I found myself still thinking about it.

So this morning, I took the boyfriend back with me to see if it was still there. Living with a boy means, after all, that you have to get approval on such purchases. And there it was! Still in its prime location at the very front of the door... and still $350.

"I don't get it," he kept saying. "I mean, it doesn't make an impact."

"But that's what the impact is! That there is so little impact!" I imagined throwing out our disgusting, clunky, industrial coffee table and watching the air move around this barely-there piece in a fresh new way. I imagined it's hardly-there visual impact doubling our perception of the size of our little apartment. I imagined this would CHANGE OUR LIVES. 

Of course, we had to make sure it was the right size. So we got the measurements (37.5" W x 21.25" D x 13.75"H) and went home to check with the dimensions of our current one.

Um, it was perfect.

So I got on my tennis shoes--which meant it was really serious, that we fully inteded to lug this thing home.  But when we returned, I started noticing the quarter-sized scuffs that couldn't possibly be buffed out. And the pin-sized scrapes all over the top. But... I loved it! So what's a girl to do?


Sulk on home, I guess.

I logged online, in a last ditch attempt to feel better about my decision, and through some Ebay comments found myself on CB2, looking at...


A lucite coffee table.


For $249.


With the same. exact. measurements -- 37.5" W x 21.25" D x 13.75"H.


Oh Housing Works, you sly devil you! Suddenly I realized those crazies didn't do their research, and I'd almost been seriously ripped off.


So thanks to hesitation (and my wary boyfriend), we've found our new addition--that doesn't break the bank! [As much.] There's a lesson to learn!


* lucite coffee table photo via cb2
* room photos via decor pad

birthdays, rum and cheaters (oh my!)

This weekend marked my 22nd year of life--celebrated with Brazilian barbeque (an interesting treat and, I gather, somewhat of a present for the boyfriend who picked it out as well--no judgment!), a gathering of friends in our homey new apartment, and a night out.

It was also marked by too much rum, scummy guys, and hurt feelings... (Luckily the douchey guy was not mine.)

I got to thinking...it seems like we go through our lives thinking that once we close one chapter (graduate from first grade, middle school, high school, college), another less complicated one is going to open up. Is that ever the case?

No matter how far away I get from seventh grade, or the skeezy guy who took me to my first high school homecoming dance, I continue to be whacked upside the head in surprise by the crappy things people do to the ones they claim (pretend?) to love.

I know married women who claim all men stray, that we, the doting women, have to let them do their thing and they'll be back. Excuse me--No. Is monogamy really so much to ask? Should any of us ever have to subject ourselves to that humiliation, particularly when others know what is going on, and you have no clue?

I guess I can't target this just at the boys. Everybody cheats, right? The NYTimes has a new Wife/Mother/Worker/Spy article written by a woman who cheats on online games. Obviously, that's not what I'm talking about, but, still, this quote seemed so relevant:

“It’s much easier to cheat when people don’t really know who you are.”

Isn't that the biggest thing? We're drawn to people who are enigmas--we can't figure them out and that mystery is oh-so-sexy. We want to be the one who's in, right? The one who gets to see that special part of them. But in an instant, you could suddenly be forced to realize you have no fucking clue who that person is at all.

Nothing can be worse than that feeling: the instant where you have discovered something that destroys your entire perception of a person in your life, someone you thought was one thing and now, you realize, they might as well be your worst enemy... because who else could hurt you like that?

It all leaves such a dirty taste in my mouth, and endless questions about the fate of relationships.
Other than that, my friends, my girls, my boy: Thank you for a lovely night. (Seriously!)