Like most gay people would in my situation I am starting to become slightly obsessive about my move: it’s very disrupting. I spent most of my day looking to buy leather armchairs on Craig’s list and e-bay. I've never owned any furniture in my-short-&-uneventful-existence besides a bed (and yet I am not even sure it’s mine) and two plastic milk crates so I never really imagined that one has to buy it and that this stuff is so costly. I guess I thought that furniture was something that happens in one’s lifetime a bit like pubic hair, physical decay, law school or bitterness. I thought that one day, human beings wake up and they have the kind of furniture they deserve in their living room (which is why I always believed my roommate to be a very undeserving person). Perhaps I was also working on the assumption that besides the furniture which comes directly from God, I would eventually get some as wedding and break-up gifts. Evidently this grave mistake is unbudgeted and is going to bring me once again on the fringe of extreme poverty. Who wants to spend his money on an ironing board when there is so many other cool Pamela Harriman’s memorabilia to buy on e-bay. Come on, this is just wood! for once I wish I’d have a relationship with some jewish carpenter. The good news is that apparently, I own a vacuum cleaner. As I have never vacuumed anything in my life, I assume I must have won it in one of my divorce settlements. Sometimes an iron board is the only thing you can get out of the rubbles of your relationship. I also wish I was a nomad. Perhaps I go to this flee market up in Georgetown. And then you’ve got to have the stuff delivered…and interact with the delivery people who are always shady…. what a nightmare.