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Sep. 8th, 2019 12:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
type_wildToday, I moved a lamp. I bought it when I first moved to this city, and brought it along when I bought my current flat six months later. It was always awkwardly placed, and superflous in a space with some three other sources of light.
It's now replacing a table lamp that stood on a stool that stood on two different boxes of books, because the table lamp has been superflous almost since I got it and I'm now planning on giving it to my brother, who recently got his own permanent place for the first time in his life.
The table lamp was bought the second time I moved to The Island, which would be some five months before I left it to move here. I needed the lamp there; IIRC, the artifical light installed in the living room slash kitchen, was the glaring ceiling lights over the kitchen part. It was more money than I'd ever imagine I'd give out for light source, but it was nice, and it made me appreciate how nice furniture really can make a room.
This flat had not furniture, so around the same time, I bought a small armchair, though I'm not sure the word qualifies. It small enough that it doesn't really have arms, and too small to "curl up" in, or anything. But the only other seats I had were my kitchen chairs, and this little chair I could fit into my car. Functionally, I'm fairly sure it's meant to be decorative. It's too low for it to function as a set with sofas or other chairs; it's too narrow to be a resting chair, too straight-backed for longterm comfort. It's probably meant to be put in a bedroom or something, but I've loved it since I first got it.
But my current flat has no space for it; it's been awkwardly shoved into corners in my living room, and because it's been next to my dining table which I use for Serious Work, it's also been next to my laptop charger, and because the world is what it is, I've been sitting in that chair more than I've sat on my sofa.
It's telling enough that the chair is now going to my brother along with the one pieces of furniture bought for the one place where I stayed less than half a year. It was a space of transit, a municipal rental, by all means the most forgettable of all the places I've lived in, in my life (sixteen, this far). But out of all my furniture, it's somehow that dumb, cut-but-useless chair that has some real affection from me.
It's now replacing a table lamp that stood on a stool that stood on two different boxes of books, because the table lamp has been superflous almost since I got it and I'm now planning on giving it to my brother, who recently got his own permanent place for the first time in his life.
The table lamp was bought the second time I moved to The Island, which would be some five months before I left it to move here. I needed the lamp there; IIRC, the artifical light installed in the living room slash kitchen, was the glaring ceiling lights over the kitchen part. It was more money than I'd ever imagine I'd give out for light source, but it was nice, and it made me appreciate how nice furniture really can make a room.
This flat had not furniture, so around the same time, I bought a small armchair, though I'm not sure the word qualifies. It small enough that it doesn't really have arms, and too small to "curl up" in, or anything. But the only other seats I had were my kitchen chairs, and this little chair I could fit into my car. Functionally, I'm fairly sure it's meant to be decorative. It's too low for it to function as a set with sofas or other chairs; it's too narrow to be a resting chair, too straight-backed for longterm comfort. It's probably meant to be put in a bedroom or something, but I've loved it since I first got it.
But my current flat has no space for it; it's been awkwardly shoved into corners in my living room, and because it's been next to my dining table which I use for Serious Work, it's also been next to my laptop charger, and because the world is what it is, I've been sitting in that chair more than I've sat on my sofa.
It's telling enough that the chair is now going to my brother along with the one pieces of furniture bought for the one place where I stayed less than half a year. It was a space of transit, a municipal rental, by all means the most forgettable of all the places I've lived in, in my life (sixteen, this far). But out of all my furniture, it's somehow that dumb, cut-but-useless chair that has some real affection from me.
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