There's this room in the back of my apartment. Currently, there are a great number of things in there... about 6 long boxes of comic books. Boxes of HeroClix figures and collectible card games. Piles of clean clothing... one pile of dirty clothing. A dresser. A pile of shoes and boots.
But there isn't a bed.
I've been sleeping on this couch for I-don't-know-how-long. It's not completely uncomfortable; it's a good couch, and I guess it's only about a year old. I remember when I got it. Okay, maybe it's a year and a half old. I remember when SPC Egregious helped me move it from on post to the house we were renting (not me and Egregious; we've never lived together). The house has a 45 degree angle to the driveway, and there was no way to back the truck up it... toting all that crap, *especially* the couch, was rough. It was easier when SGT Whitebread and I (he was just a wee bairn of a SPC at the time) moved my crap here to the apartment.
I don't think I'm getting a bed any time soon. I'm going to have to pay out about $900 for some furniture for my kids (far more important than anything for myself), so I'm reluctant to spend more on furniture until I get some of my other bills under control. Plus... sleeping on the couch is a reminder that I don't have an ideal life. In some ways, I'm punishing myself, although really the couch isn't that bad.
And, hey, it's my couch now. I'll sleep on it if I want to.
It's better than the floor.