Furniture Woman

I think that I will be the kind of old person that surrounds myself with my furniture. My bedroom furniture will be huge, and I will probably be small, like my own grandmother is today. I might buy a platform bed so that my children won?t have to throw away the box spring when I die. Or maybe I?ll have a box spring bed, so that they will. Part of me wants the cleaning and dismantling of my house to be long and difficult and heavy.

My dining room furniture will be massive, more so than the bedroom set. I refuse to own a lonely coffee table; I will buy my coffee tables by the truckloads and stack them in empty rooms along with extra dining tables, extra beds, extra sofas and exactly thirteen metal bed frames. Contemporary bedroom furniture is far too thin and easily transported. My children will suffer as I suffered.

I want them to painstakingly cart away each bed, each dining room set. I want them to take them to their individual homes, and keep them until their children will cart it to their homes. Centuries from now, across humanities viral sprawl I want for my furniture to live on without me. I want to have so many couches, so many coffee tables that surely, surely at the end of time, the last thing left will be something I loved, something I breathed on and left to my children. Something they took when there was nothing else left.