Craig's List

Aside from Floyd, my blue LA-Z-BOY chair, I moved to Chicago two weeks ago with more or less a bed, two dressers, a badass homemade table, and three pairs of hand-knitted socks.

Initially, the bare apartment seemed, at worst, a splendid burden. Every couple of hours I would don a fresh pair of Grandma Brennan's trusty socks and effectively slide, "Risky Business" style, from living room to dining room before eventually passing out from hyper-stimulation. While there is nothing I would rather do than slide, the slide-triggered blackouts were problematic because I seemed to always awake, five or six hours later, dehydrated and sore with a steadfast craving for succulent leather couches, delicious walnut bookcases, and supple area rugs from distant lands.

It was during my final slide-binge-induced-coma that an answer to my yearnings came to me in a dream in the form of a man.


In my dream, Craig floated toward me on a wave of silver bandwidth and a magical list streamed behind him like an endless lock of Rapunzel's golden hair.

"Consult my list and you shall be furnished," Craig said to me.

Instantly I awoke, the slide-hangover still pounding in my temples.

"I must find Craig's list!" I said to Floyd.

On bended knee, I approached my MacBook, Kevin, and prayed to the great deity, Google, for an answer. In 0.05 seconds, Lord Google had a reply. Atop the mountain of 24,900,000 results, stared me in the face.

Seriously though, all joking aside, Craigslist is full of crazy-go-awesome things. Not only can you find a whole bunch of used shit for free, there is also a whole bunch of used shit for purchase, as well as job postings and personal ads.

Floyd is a believer. He found Grace, a gray sectional with a pullout bed, on Craigslist Personals. They hit it off immediately and are expecting an ottoman sometime in the fall.

Do not wait for Craig to visit you in a cataleptic state. I have been to the mountaintop. I have met Craig and consulted his list.

Trust me.

Craig's List is worthy.