Bed, Bath & Beyond
I have done the unthinkable. If it weren’t there in the other room, staring me down, I wouldn’t believe it myself.
My CD collection is unalphabetized.
See, I reorganized my livin groom shelves. Well, that’s getting ahead of ourselves. It started yesterday. Circumstance found me at Bed, Bed & Beyond in Chelsea. I saw a few things — a media stand, a butcher block, a bedside table — that made me realize that maybe plastic crates weren’t the sole solution for furnishing an apartment.
As I was running this morning (through CP to 116th, back down through Riverside Park), I found myself drifting back to the chrome shelving: so clean, so efficient — and with wheels! I resolved to return to that bastion of suburban bliss (right here in Manhattan!) as soon as they opened and — SNAP! — they opened at 8:00 a.m.! So… I’m standing there at, like, 11:00 a.m. on a Sunday saying, “Whaddya’ think, do I need 38 liters? Seems like 39 would do.”
And I’m struck by just how, er… parental I sound. I mean, I was wearing a red-plaid, short-sleeved Ralph Lauren shirt that looks straight out of my dad’s closet. I might as well ACT like him as well as LOOK like him.
So I went apeshit, for me at least. I got a media stand, a microwave stand, a bedside table, a kitchen clock, and a beautiful brushed-chrome, pop-top garbage can. (Who knew there were beautiful garbage cans!)
Which brings us back to my CD collection.
The new media stand forced me to re-arrange my shelves. So I chucked some lame CDs, dusted, and moved stuff about a bit. Anyway, by 7:30 tonight, having been moving non-stop since 6:30 this morning (in addition to running 7-8 miles, I made breakfast four four, hosted my cousins and their three year old, plus the whole Bed Bath & Beyond episode), I was pooped. I couldn’t fathom putting my CDs in alphabetical (or chronological, or thematic) order. I just couldn’t. And so it waits, this massive organizational disorder, right there in my living room.
P.S. Remind me to tell you how PSYCHED I am that there’s a new/used CD shop in Hell’s Kitchen called Future Legend. I stopped by this afternoon to donate some of my more A-list CDs. “I just wanna’ do my part to ensure that you guys stay in the neighborhood,” I said. Paul, the owner, gave me a t-shirt. Rockin’.