Some days, you're being called by a Haitian woman looking for her Friday night dancing partner. Other days, you're getting harassed by a legal-sounding-type about someone named Alejandro. There are even days that you wish you're being called by anyone.
Today was a day that featured a phone call from our roommate, Chris, who told us about a recently- (and hastily-) vacated apartment next door. Our landlord offered us any and all of the furniture that we could carry. Steve and I hesitated only long enough to pause iTunes and get our jackets. The only trick would be carrying said furniture down three flights of the neighboring apartment and up three flights of our own building -- no small feat for two guys whose typical exercise regiment consists of a walk to and from the kitchen.
Needless to say, we got it home. It was only then that we found the instructions for "how to disassemble for easy and safe transportation." We also hadn't taken into consideration the general lack of space in our apartment, which was only highlighted by the massive grey recliner occupying a third of Steve's bedroom (and his is the big one...). There's also a degree of karmic justice at work here (yes, of course we believe in karmic justice) since Steve's beloved grey recliner from college was irreparably destroyed during our senior year. I believe the death knell sounded a lot like the vomiting of a drunk girl... no, in fact that's what caused its demise -- the vomit of a drunk girl.
The slightly soiled futon is hardly worth mentioning, let alone photographing. Fortunately, we don't get many overnight guests -- or guests, for that matter.
You never know what you're going to get when you pick up the phone, today we adopted an orphaned recliner, tomorrow... who knows?
** Note: title edited because I caught myself using a brand name -- Marketers: 1 Alexis: 0
