Over the past few months I've had some trouble sitting still and finishing something. Anything. Never before have I had such a high pile of books by my bed, and my desk, and in the family room under the couch, a perfect place to stash books whose covers taunt me with their glossy covers and - as in the case of those under the coach - their unfinished foreign language exercises. There's no need to spend thousands of dollars on a fancy couch when a very reasonably priced Ikea couch will cover up those books just fine for you. Luckily, I'm married to a man who doesn't mind my constant book buying. In fact, he JUST AS GUILTY. Especially since he doesn't just buy books from the discount table at Costco or the university bookstore. He orders them from Germany. And then, if you're paying for one book to be shipped from Germany, you might as well, have another two or three or TEN added to the box, as well.
So we have a very cozy apartment. If cozy is code for dusty.
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