Toward the end of the last round of the NFL draft, I decided to take a chance on an unknown. And while I prayed like hell he’d have talent, this pick was based on need.
About a week and a half earlier, you see, I signed a year-long lease for a one-bedroom apartment, which delighted me until I came to a horrifying realization: I was going to have to furnish it.
Frankly, I didn’t know how to do things like that. Whatever Miss South Carolina was to oratory, I was to interior design. Still, I wanted my living space to at least resemble that of a functional adult, but I wasn’t about to drop two months’ pay on a decorator.