Value Pricing

Tough decisions confront me. Avowing to clean my apartment, Sunday, I stumbled upon certain zones, spots so to speak, that resist cleaning. Problematic, for a party downstairs may impose courtesy visits from strangers. The bed must be made, the floor swept (of large bulky items). Order, or its semblance, must be at first visual blush apparent.

One corner – unresolved, unresolveble, a stack of books around my bed, lingered. The compromise – this being New York, a studio apartment, most small, non-segregated kitchen and I, striving in vain, for open space (read spaciousness) – already dictated all books in ministorage. My collection gone in boxes, but of course still a small stack of current books remained on the floor, arm's length from the bed. James, Portrait of A Lady. VS Prichett. With an attendant suburb of items that have no home but the floor.

This problem clouding my mind, I passed the cluttered, secondhand store up the Avenue. Its stack of furniture outside, duly standing sentinel to uncovered desires or needs. And there it was. My solution.

A piano bench. Perfect for a bedside end table for books, bass strings, the clock now relegated to the floor, the floss from right before bed the night before. $20. I already had a bench like this that I had cut down and am using as a platform for my stereo and mixer. I balked.

For non-northeasterners, trust me, the price is right. The piano bench adds storage underneath, a plus. All wood, good, not frilly or overwrought. Stains, alright, but I could sand them out or cover them. No one would care but me. Transit? ½ block from my house. Done. Would it ruin my decorative scheme? Not really. So why did I balk? Responsibility.

To own that item, to be the owner, the proper owner, the useful owner, to use the bench properly: that is responsibility. Perhaps I was overwhelmed by the thought of ownership, typcially in regards to pets, children, bleeding edge electronics. But here? Did I not wish to admit the problem? Would the purchase signify a defeat in that corner of the room? My inability to clean it, to order it under the present set of circumstances. To admit intervention, in the form of materiality, is necessary? Do I believe items on the floor produces a greater sense of space, the ultimate end? No answer here.

Responsibility.