Empty Nest

My condo is empty. Like seriously, there is not one single piece of furniture left. Unless you count a TV and a printer as furniture. I don’t. The weird thing is though, instead of missing my stuff, I am really enjoying this new, minimalist lifestyle.

I didn’t enjoy it the first night, but that was in my pre-air mattress days. I think we can also refer to those times as “the night of living hell of trying to sleep on a hard floor with your brother and a dachshund.” It turns out my body isn’t built for sleeping on a floor. I guess I’m just too bony. You know, my hip bones and ribs just protrude from my thin, thin figure. Wait. No, that’s not it. Yeah, I don’t know what the problem was, but I do know that I woke up the next morning and if there had been a bed for me to get out of, I would have definitely gotten up on the proverbial wrong side of it.

However, last night my friend Laura was gracious enough to loan me her air mattress. And wow. I mean, it is like a little taste of heaven. Laura calls it “the crème de la crème” of air mattresses. And she is right. It is perfect. It is, dare I say it, better than my bed.

It’s better on two levels. 1) It’s more cushy. There’s more give. I’m no mattress scientist, but I think this might have to do with the so-called air. 2) It is at a low enough height that a dachshund whose legs are more just feet sticking out of her shoulders than actual appendages with any length, can get on and off at her leisure. For anyone who knows Rosie, you know that she is a rather demanding animal and slightly fickle. As in she may want to be on the floor one moment and on the bed the next – or vice versa – and in her mind, it is my sole job as owner/slave to Rosie to make sure that she is precisely where she wants to be at all times. So there is a lot of taking her on and off the bed. And also a lot of barking when those demands aren’t met immediately. Hence, this air mattress is phenomenal. Rosie gets on and off when she wants with very little complaining. Life is good.

This continues into every other aspect of my new life as a hobo in my own condo. There are no dishes to wash. No rugs to vacuum. No plants to water. No shelves to dust. It’s amazing. And I love it. This feeling probably won’t last forever. I assume eventually I’ll want a couch again. And come Thursday night at 9 pm I might be crying a little thinking about my missing big TV. But for now, I think this is a nice start to my upcoming seven weeks of every one of my possessions being those that are on my back.