To be honest, my move isn’t the best choice on a lot of levels. I’m not saving any money the first year since I have to pay for movers, and for a few new things to help shoehorn all my stuff into this smaller space. I’ll also be paying a cable bill. And the complex also doesn’t feel as safe as my current apartment.

But moving is, like a new hairstyle, a battle between aspirations and practicality. By moving to a new place I get to dream new things will happen, that my life will be fun and more interesting. There will be space for all the plans I have, and I’ll get the joy of designing that space to support the life I wish I had. It’s a chance to right all the mistakes I made setting up this apartment, this life.

Practically speaking, however, I’ll be downsizing from a one bedroom to a two bedroom, which involves decisions and tradeoffs. Some of the decisions are a little unusual. They won’t work for everyone, but hopefully they will work for me.

My current apartment contains three very large pieces of furniture.  A sofa, a bed, and . . . (wait for it) . . . a hammock stand. The hammock stand is a new purchase, the end result of a rush of aspirational joy.  And it’s VERY large, about ten feet long, and almost four feet wide at its widest point.

I bought the hammock stand to help me get a decent night’s sleep. A few years ago I injured my shoulder, and during the recovery process couldn’t sleep lying down in a bed without pain. This has forced me to sleep in a recliner for about two years now, and while it isn’t as bad as you would think, it isn’t all that comfortable either. Some days my back hurts, other days my hips hurt, or my legs. Most days I’m fine, but I do miss stretching out.

Since I weigh so much, sleeping in a bed pinches my body in all kinds of uncomfortable ways. If I lay on my side, for example, the hip resting on my hard-as-a-rock mattress is squashed down by all the weight I carry around my hips on a daily basis. I’m my own panini press, with my own body as the sandwich.

I knew from previous experience that sleeping in a hammock would be a game changer.  I slept in a Mayan hammock briefly after graduating from college and loved it. My experiment ended only because my father’s idea of safely hanging a hammock involved him twisting some bolts into the drywall with his bare hands (no anchors, no studs) then grinning at my then-160-pound self and saying “OK, you’re good to go!” A few months after his wise assistance, the bolts shot out of the wall while I was getting into the hammock. I’m glad I crashed to the floor so quickly because otherwise the bolts would have brained me.

This time around I did some research. I wanted an apartment-friendly solution that wouldn’t turn into an engineering disaster. Eagle’s Nest Outfitter’s SoloPod quickly became the leader in a sea of almost identical hammock stands. The REI in Austin had them in stock, so I drove to Austin to avoid shipping costs. It took ten minutes to assemble. The SoloPod is very sturdy, and I’ve been napping in in for two weeks now. I’m slowly working up to sleeping in it all night, but first I want to be sure I can get in and out of the thing when I’m half asleep with a full bladder.

Admittedly I’m not crazy about the way it looks. What’s with that lame curl at the ends? Do the Vikings know ENO has their ship? I’m also not crazy about ENO’s hammock colors. All of their hammocks scream I AM ATHLETIC AND EAT SPROUTS FOR BREAKFAST, or DUDE I KILLED BAMBI WHILE DRINKING A BEER. The ones that scream POINTLESS DESIGN-OBSESSED FINANCIALLY IRRESPONSIBLE PROTO HIPSTER seem to be out of stock.

So I settled for ENO’s orange and gray DoubleNest, because nylon lets me avoid waking with string patterns all over my body, something that happens after sleeping all night in a Mayan hammock.

I thought the design flu was over, but this week Target is whispering in my ear, tempting me with this Marimekko hammock.

I’m trying very hard not to listen.

ANYWAY — back to the apartment stuff.  Now that I’m seriously invested in hammock, the 10-foot hammock stand will obviously occupy a large bit of floor space in the new place. This means something else has to go.  Something large. Like the bed I never use, or the sofa I also never use.

After listening to me debate the decision for twenty minutes, my sister C made the decision for me. The sofa is going, and the bed is staying. This means guests can still stay overnight in the apartment. It will also lend a semblance of normality to the place, which it desperately needs since it lacks a sofa and a television.