I like having furniture, but have no interest in it. It never occurred to me that I would eventually have to procure furniture until about two years ago. My old roommate was about to move into her first unfurnished apartment. We both thought acquiring furniture was the most horrible thing. Sort of like grocery shopping.
I had always lived in furnished dorms, co-ops, and apartments. True, it was often makeshift furniture, but it functioned nonetheless. Used a bookcase as a dresser, threw a piece of wood over an end table and called it a desk. Well, I also had to wrap it in a trash bag since it had splinters.
Once, I wanted some extra storage space and copied my friend who put milk crates under his bed. Unfortunately, I did not get the cleanest crates and they started to smell after a couple days. So, then I tried washing them in bleach. I can’t remember if I forgot to rinse or just did not rinse thoroughly. The chemical started to irritate my eyes and I finally gave up on the extra storage space.
So, today I have mimicked my aunt’s taste in furniture: simple, practical, and pine.