Poor Jon. He thought that our recent move into our fun new apartment (I'll post pictures when it doesn't look like a bomb that blew up at a garage sale) was going to keep me satisfied for more than four days.

Unfortunately, we're learning that I have an infinite capacity to want stuff.

It's not that I'm materialistic. I don't want stuff just to have stuff. But I love projects. And more importantly, I think it keeps me off medication sometimes. Rather than popping a Xanax (I have a sneaky suspicion that I could also love prescription drugs), I arrange furniture in my head. All day. Jon aptly termed it a "healthy fixation."

Which might help to explain why I was almost in tears at Ikea last night when my convoluted explanation of how I would attach the curtains below to a network of exposed piping in our bedroom with imaginary hardware was met with less than the rapturous reaction I was hoping for from Jon.


Sorry, dude. At least now you know what a temper tantrum in Sweden would be like. Taking me out for ice cream afterwards was a really nice touch. Just one more reason I'm glad I married you.