But would it be better than a couch?

Yesterday Cirque asked me where I don't want to travel, as she knows the list of Places I'd Love To Visit takes ten plus minutes to recite. After a long pause, I mustered "sub-Saharan Africa" and "Antarctica." Which isn't to say I wouldn't go to either if someone offered me free plane tickets, it just means that I'd rather spend the plane ticket/hotel money on a couch.

The couch: sadly not metaphorical.

I have no living room furniture. Not on purpose, you understand; it just sort of happened. I moved into the current apartment six months ago, realized I did not have enough furniture to fill the space, elected to sacrifice the living room, and it's been like that ever since.* I've gotten quite used to it, actually.

My real problem is this: I save up enough money to buy a nice couch. I say, "Huzzah! I have saved up enough money to buy a nice couch! I shall go shopping this weekend!" And then I mention to someone that I've been meaning to visit Travel Destination X and it all goes blurry and when I wake up I find I've purchased plane tickets and booked a hotel room.

Last time this happened I ended up with tickets to Barcelona. The time before? Casablanca. I'm already plotting my accidental stumble into plans for Vietnam.

I'm not saying it's a bad thing. When I'm old and crotchety, I'm pretty sure I'll remember that nifty trip I took, and I probably won't be recounting stories of how awesome my first couch was. It's a trade off that works for me, although my parents keep threatening not to come for Thanksgiving if I don't find something for them to sit on.

My conclusion for Cirque: almost anywhere is more interesting than a couch.


* All good stories (particularly sea stories), begin with "No shit there we were..." and end with "...and it's been fucked up like that ever since." This story is in no way worthy of the bracketing, however, and the similarity of phrase is purely coincidental.