Sometimes the whole concept of "time" baffles me. There are the obvious things, like I can't believe my little baby is 4.5. Soon she'll be 5 and ready for Kindergarten. There are the crazy things, like the fact that I am the person who hires a babysitter, while I still feel like I relate so much more to actually being a babysitter.
And then there are the baffling things, like why is my couch so stinking uncomfortable and ragged? Why are there stains all over it and tears at the seems? I got this couch when I first lived on my own, sans roommates; I paid a lot of money for it, bought it at a fancy place, and it should last me at least 10 years.
Realization strikes. That couch is more than 12 years old. Am I truly old enough to have a couch that old? Yowsa.
Buying new furniture is a pipe dream for us at this point, but that doesn't mean I don't spend my free time browsing all the modern furniture on the internet. It's not the thing for us to spend money on right now and even if it was, our apartment is temporary and it's smartest to wait until we are someplace more permanent. Regardless, I have this apartment planned and mapped out in my mind. If we moved this, bought this couch and that bookshelf, etc. we could probably live here forever.
This is a tangent, but lately I've been thinking about how it's so much more fun to creatively organize a small space than to have a large space that needs filling up. When we moved into this apartment, I was dumbfounded and Joel was more than a little concerned about how we'd fit. But we've made it work - and not only that, but we've made this a cozy and comfortable home that seems a lot bigger than it is.
Anyhow, it will be interesting to see how long life keeps us in this place. Maybe long enough that we'll need to put a new couch in here. And, one day, that new couch will be that old ragged thing. Crazy to believe that I'll some day be old enough to have replacement furniture that's incredibly old.