Anything But Coupons

I’m moving! Finally! After over five months of a very disappointing apartment hunt, I have found a place of my very own. It has wood floors..well, fake wood, but still. Also, a beautiful view…of the strip mall across the street. And the countryside, really. The laundry room is just down the pot-hole pocked parking lot. The best part? The fridge is not avocado!

For real, though, it’s a really great place at a great price. I’m gathering up all of my knick knacks that have been scattered around the house and finding many boxes that have not been touched in over a year. (Whoops…)

It is hitting me, now that I am responsible for furnishing the apartment all on my own, just how much stuff I need and how much it all costs. Ouch. Add to the equation that I will be commuting like a real adult, so gas prices will now factor into my everyday conversations, along with the weather and how the Chinese are preparing to take over the world. In my extreme budget-consciousness, I am re-evaluating the necessity of many household items that I previously thought intrinsic to domestic happiness.

Towels: My old towels are getting ratty. Technically, I could keep them instead of purchasing new ones. However, I have decided that towels are really not necessary. I will be living by myself, and my apartment comes equipped with window shades (I think). What is stopping me from air-drying? Just wandering about in my God-given birthday suit? I’d save money on the towels in the first place and on laundry by not needing to wash them. Ever. And if I’m having any trouble with any neighbors, for whatever reason involving their own stupidity and not mine, I’ll just accidentally leave the window shades open. Problems solved– nakedness.

End Tables: End tables are not traditionally considered a “necessity,” but as I come from a middle class background, they are a commonly accepted furniture accoutrement in a living room. Except they’re really just big blocks of wood with legs. (Don’t say “just like men.” Don’t say “just like men.” Don’t say “just like men.”) Everything that I would have put on the end tables can just be set on top of my television. Assuming I stick with the Goliath-like apparatus that was gifted to me by a former co-worker, the TV is large enough to hold a lamp, two glasses of wine, a stack of coasters, and my framed photo of Jude Law in his skivvies from that tabloid magazine eight years ago. The back of the television kinda slopes, though, so I’ll need to be sure that Jude is securely at the front.

Mirrors: The bathroom does come with a mirror (also green and hot pink marble countertops), but it has been my experience that I usually require at least one more mirror throughout the house. Until I discovered all of the pictures of myself that I have stored in a box in the garage. For just the price of a box of thumbtacks, I can create a montage of photos of moi, both in the bedroom and in the living room. The only reason to use a mirror is to stare at my strikingly beautiful face, right? Check and check.

Shampoo: The purpose of shampoo is to remove the oil from your hair and also smell like coconut. The purpose of dish soap is to remove the oil from your dishes and also smell like sour apple. I like sour apple just as much as coconut. Perhaps even more. Therefore, I shall be replacing my shampoo with dish soap. Just as many suds, and I can even do that obnoxious shower-commercial laugh to make it legit.

DVD Player: What they don’t tell you about DVD covers is that if you stare at them cross-eyed, like those Magic-Eye posters, they show the whole movie in 3D backwards. The male leads all take their shirts off, and the female leads all look pudgy. You know, the cross-eye adds ten pounds.

Iron and Ironing Board: Professionalism is a quality on which I pride myself greatly. I was the one and only girl on my dorm floor who owned an iron and ironing board, and the one and only one the other girls came running to when they had interviews and needed their clothes looking fresher than the pizza box they had been sitting under. I trust that this particular iron is somewhere in a box in the middle of the garage and will make its way down to my apartment eventually. However, if it does not, I have an alternative solution: my hair dryer. As I mentioned, I’ll be commuting to work, so my clothes will get wrinkled no matter what. I might as well just blow hot air at the biggest of the wrinkles, preferably when I am already wearing the clothes so as to make it as awkward as possible when I reach around between my legs and try to get the back hem of a dress. Super classy.

Vacuum: Step One– Wrap myself in duct tape. Step Two– roll. (Probably not right after I’ve taken a shower with no towels. That could get tricky.)

Any other suggestions for money-saving maneuvers would be much appreciated. Please don’t suggest cutting coupons. What with all of the “vacuuming” I have to do, I just don’t have time.

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8 thoughts on “Anything But Coupons

  1. Yeah, but duct tape gets a tad bit expensive as well. Especially if you are covering yourself head to toe. My suggestion . . . just do what I do. Dirt? What dirt? I don’t see any dirt. And then pour another glass of wine.

    Oh, and coupons.

    • The multifunctional futon is a wonder of our modern age. However, I slept on one for a while in college and do not wish to replicate the experience. Thanks for reading and commenting!

  2. Congrats on the new apartment! Don’t be as lazy as me, though. I still haven’t unpacked some boxes and also haven’t hung anything up on the walls.

    And for what it’s worth, I always walk around naked.

    • This last fact does not surprise me at all.

      Nothing has been hung on the walls because no major furniture has arrived; the bed, desk, dining table, and couch will be here tomorrow. More intimidating than unpacking is the thought of all the groceries needed to complete a household. I don’t actually need mustard, right?

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