One morning Jeff got up early and headed to class. We had only been married a few short weeks, and I was already discontent with the once romanticized state of (relative) poverty that is accustomed to newlywed life. I despised that I would walk into our bedroom at night, and my socks would slip and slide on the hardwood floors. There was no way we would ever be able to afford a rug. Or a dresser. Or a nightstand. We had a 15 year old mattress, and a lamp leftover from my college dorm. It sat on the floor next to the bed.

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