Chapter 6 - Rattled AF (Part 2/3)
The desk came easily. Emile and I walked into a furniture store that was going out of business and purchased the beautiful white lacquered desk I’m sitting at right now for only $300 (original price: $800).
Side note: I asked when the store would be closing its doors for good and the salesman nervously responded with, “Five days, I think...yeah, five days.” This motivated me to buy the desk without hesitation and I even saved money by agreeing to take it home in the box and put it together myself.
I drove by the same store recently, a few months later and it’s still open. I think I was conned, but I love my desk so I’m cool with it.
The irony in this is that I had set out to replace all the Ikea pieces in my home with “adult” furniture, you know, the stuff that comes pre-assembled. Three hours, a double bourbon on the rocks and a lot of back pain later, my desk was complete and I knew I was on my way to a bestselling book!
There was only one problem: I still hadn’t found the damn desk chair!
I had in my mind this idea of the perfect chair that I would sit comfortably in for hours on end while I churned out the book of a generation, the book that would connect souls through the shared stories of some of my favorite people. I had spent countless hours reconnecting with any old friend with even an ounce of interior decorating ability, driving to furniture stores in and around LA that I had no idea existed, and researching websites that would put Chip and Joanna Gaines’s Pinterest board to shame. (If you don’t know who Chip and Joanna Gaines are, Google the pure awesomeness that is this decorating duo from Waco, Texas, or turn on HGTV at any point throughout the day and there’s a good chance an episode of their show Fixer Upper will be airing. Also, I don’t really know if Chip & Joanna even have a Pinterest board, and on the odd chance they find out I mentioned them in this book, I want to clarify that I’m not an expert on their social media habits as they pertain to their interior design empire. Also, I just really want to meet them and I believe in putting dreams out into the universe, so there you have it.)
My search brought us to that frustrating Friday night at an Ashley Furniture in downtown LA, surrounded by black office chairs, where I almost ended my five-year relationship with Emile. He’s twenty-eight, I’m not, so we have different tastes when it comes to things like furniture. Mine is exquisite, his is...his. I’m totally sort of kidding, but only about the personal taste stuff, because this search really did almost tear us apart, at least in my head.
I left Ashley Furniture in downtown LA as they closed that night, convinced that I was, once again, incapable of accomplishing anything because I still couldn’t decide on a stupid chair.
Often times, and by “often,” I mean “almost always,” when I start to feel like a failure I turn inwards. I usually crave some sort of fast food, something like McDonald’s because it reminds me of my childhood and then I get quiet and stare off into space. Not many people see this side of me because I’m the guy from TV that always seems happy and has great hair (seriously though, my hair is great). In actuality, I’m really great at being great for other people. I give the best advice, I’ll show up to move furniture at the drop of a dime and I host the best Christmas parties because those things come easily to me. I love people and even more so, I love making people happy. It breaks my heart whenever I see anyone hurting or feeling unseen or unheard. Nothing gives me greater joy than helping people see their own beautifully unique awesomeness. When it comes to myself though, I always fall short and, as I finished my Big Mac during our ride home, I knew I’d fallen short yet again. I had a stomach ache and still no chair.
(Come back on Friday for the conclusion to this chapter!)