I have officially reached adulthood, and ordered my very first piece of brand new, custom furniture.

It should be here in a few weeks.

In a world where I trust that I will always have what I NEED, it’s a humbling luxury to - every now and then - get what I WANT.  I am a super lucky girl.

You’re dying to know about the Great Sofa Hunt.

Here’s the thing: I wish that I could be content with just any couch.  But if there is one word to describe Annie Parsons, it is “particular” – just ask my poor parents who have watched me for 1 score and 7 years (often with much chagrin – sorry, Mom and Dad).  I am so persnickety, it’s appalling.

Because I don’t have a lot of money, one would think that I would be happy with whatever might get tossed my way – but nay, I say to thee.

NAY.

Because I don’t have a lot of money, that is ALL THE MORE REASON to invest my dollars wisely.  It might not make a lot of sense, I know, but here is my line of thinking: why spend $200 dollars on something heinous that will make me miserable and ashamed every time I lay my poor, unfortunate eyes on it when I could spend $1,000 on something that will make my heart burst with sprinkles?  I would rather pay more money once than less money what would wind up being multiple times.

The obvious trouble is that I usually do not have confetti-inducing funds just lying in a manila envelope under my mattress.  If I did, I sure wouldn’t be driving a 20-year old Honda Accord – but then again, that’s EXACTLY why I’m driving a 20-year old Honda Accord.  I could go out right now and buy a 1993 Saturn (no offense, if that’s you), but why would I do that when what I really want is keyless entry and seat warmers?  It’s worth waiting for.

Does this make sense to anyone but me?

In other words, I am still couchless.

And single, as it were.

There are probably some parallels there.

Oh sorry - did I quit blogging for a couple of days?  I apologize.  It’s just that OH MY WORD, LOOK AT MY NEW DESK.

It’s called a PARSONS desk, for crying out loud - can you say meant? to? be? This is what Gina, Leigh, and I will be supporting the Emma community off of.  And I might occasionally drape myself across mine, just out of sheer obsession.

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If “the British” = “Julie” then call me Paul Revere.

It’s true.  JULIE IS COMING!

Yes, Julie of JAM.  When I get home from work tonight, there she’ll be.  And for a few days, all will be right in my world.

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I took my car for an oil change this morning.  The man at the counter asked, “Make and model?”

“Honda Accord,” I replied.

“Year?” he asked.

“1990.”

“Nineteen-ninety…?” he paused, prompting.

“1990.  Period”

“Ninety?  Really?  Well, okaaaaaaay.”

No one - not even mechanics - can believe that the Honda is still alive and kicking.

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I want to be in this so bad.

First things first: go get excited for my friends Annie and Hillary.  Ow OWWW, ladies!

Now, let’s whiplash back to my quiet life.  All I’m asking is to find a charcoal grey, non-microfiber, cozy, not-too-huge, affordable, totally sexy sectional.  Craigslist is failing me at every turn.

When it comes to my home, I’m a big fan of changing things up every now and then - which probably comes no, not from a constant desire for growth and refinement, but from my deep, childhood love of “Full House.”

Think about it: the Tanners remodeled SO MANY TIMES.  The basement into Uncle Jesse’s recording studio.  The garage into Uncle Joey’s bedroom.  The attic into Jesse and Becky’s apartment.  And remember when Vicky and her interior designer mom redesigned Stephanie and Michelle’s room from primary to pastel colors and it made Danny and Vicky fight and break up?

Formative, I tell you.

There’s a lady coming to buy my little red couch tomorrow, which is awesome because that thing needs to go.  But what does that mean?  Yes: that my little flowered chair (of Hootenannie header fame) will be my only piece of furniture in the living room.

These are life’s challenges.

When I moved into my apartment back in February, my dear friend Sarah offered me her bed on a long-term loan. It’s a great 4-poster, and has served me well. However, since Sarah is moving to Texas next month, she recently informed me that she’s going to need the bed back.

Never fear, Mary says. Just get this.

(My favorite line: “This piece of toast is made of plastic, not bread, so if you wake up and smell burning toast, you are probably just having a stroke.”)

For the past 10 days (has it only been 10 days?), I have been a rollercoaster of emotion. Within a single day, I can feel hugely hopeful, and then despairing, and then peaceful, and then turmoiled. I don’t enjoy feeling so schizophrenic, and I don’t like the fact that my circumstances have such control over my attitude. I continue to plug away, looking for jobs and places to live, but each time that something looks promising, the rug is ripped out from beneath my feet and I fall apart.

But I have found a new reason to live.

Walking through Pier 1 tonight, I came across the most perfect couch I could possibly dream up. No, it’s not flashy, and there’s nothing really remarkable about it aside from the fact that it was screaming my name. And from the depth of my spirit, my soul (sounding strangely like David Cassidy) echoed back, “I think I love you, so what am I so afraid of?”

I circled the sofa, inspecting every line, every angle. Is it red, or is it rust, or is it brown, or is it pink? I choose to believe that it could be any color that I want it to be. I cautiously lowered myself onto the cushions, and was pleasantly surprised to find it cozy and comfortable. I envisioned it next to the the only piece of furniture that I own, The Chair:

Obviously, for someone who has such impeccable taste in furniture, not just any sofa will do. And I have found one that is up to standards.

Therefore, I will press on in my job search. I will persevere until I find a home. And someday, when I once again have ANY expendable income, the couch will be mine.

Oh yes. It will.