Storage

I was looking at furniture today. In a showroom: not in my living room; or anyone else's living room. Although your friends would doubtless feel complimented by your displaying a polite level of interest in their new sofa, there comes a point when they might be discomforted by your scrutinising it in too much detail: sizing it up with your tape measure, say, or photographing it from multiple angles on your smart phone. But in a furniture store this sort of thing is allowed, and even encouraged. The staff offer to make you warm beverages, and will happily sit and chat with you about their furniture as if they had all the time in the world.

I didn't buy anything, but I may go back one day soon. If I can make up my mind. It takes me a while to decide what it is I want, and whether it will look good in the confined space of my living room. When I first moved into the house, I managed to buy essential items, such as a bed, and a fridge, and a piano, quite promptly. Though not all these are in my living room: you couldn't really get a bed and a fridge and a piano in it, not unless you were to put the sofa and television in the kitchen. But less essential items get forgotten, and years go by without me getting around to doing something about them. Today I was looking for a bookcase, a replacement for the inadequate one I have at the moment. I say inadequate; but in fact it does quite a respectable job of holding books: it hasn't dropped one yet. Only, my collection of books is starting to swamp it, and is spilling over to the floor and filling up odd corners. I could try putting up shelves instead, only I'm not very good at fixing heavy objects to walls: it is a recipe for disaster.