My new chair was to be delivered at ten, so I was up at the unseemly hour of nine this Saturday morning, rearranging furniture and dumping some of the excess clutter on the bed. I wanted the place to look respectable, so the delivery driver would know the chair had found a good home.
I couldn't vacuum the rug, because I still don't have a working vacuum cleaner. It's surprising what you can do with a broom on a low shag carpet, though. The sofa that was in the middle of the room got pushed off to the side, and the filth underneath would have been embarrassing, if there'd been anyone there for me to be embarrassed in front of.
Out of some kind of compulsion, I kept cleaning and straightening until he got here. Then he was in the house for less than ten seconds, but I don't feel as if all that time was wasted. I was probably going to do a little cleaning some time anyway. Eventually.
The real problem is that I've lived here almost two years now and I still don't know how to use the vast living room space. I've shoved the sofa against the front windows, but if I ever have someone here to watch TV with, I'll have to move it out again. Maybe I should have bought two chairs after all. The new one looks a bit like an island of indulgence in the middle of a nearly empty space.
This business of spending money is fun, though, and addictive. The problem is having enough money to spend, and I really don't. Besides, the next thing I want isn't even practical. A fish tank. With fish, I think, probably.