Lots of Crap, Little Apartment

So I'm moving. I'm moving from a very large three-bedroom-with-attached-garage apartment to half of a double with one bedroom. One small bedroom. (But it has a basement!! Can't forget the spider-infested, dark, dank, Emily-will-probably-never-do-laundry-again basement!! For some reason, everyone always tells me this (minus the adjectives) when I talk about my new place.)

And yet, even knowing the size difference, for some reason I didn't think that my stuff would be affected. After all, I lived in a one bedroom apartment before the boy, surely I can live in a one bedroom apartment after the boy just as easily.

Um, no.

There have already been sacrifices. I'm pretty sure I'm going to receive some sort of award from Goodwill for the number of bags I've taken over there in the last three days. All my beloved movies that happened to be on VHS tapes? Axed. VCR? Axed. I originally thought I would have to put the dining room table down in the basement but after careful measurements, I think it will fit in the living room and will serve as my study table. Computer desk will move to the bedroom. See? Everything fits.

Well, almost everything.

But I'm going back to school. Tuition is a bitch, and I'm making sacrifices for a reason. I can do this.

See, there's this recliner. And I don't have room for it. But it's my RECLINER. I'm emotionally attached. Here's a picture.



Oh, whoops...that's what it looks like when I'm not CONSTANTLY asking the boy to PICK! UP! YOUR! CLOTHES!...which I've pretty much stopped doing since we decided to take a brief hiatus on the cohabitation experiment. After all, what's the point now? Here's what the recliner really looks like:



Given my competitive nature and the fact that it's such a very cheerful color of blue (not to mention comfortable as HELL to read a book in) it's one of my favorite pieces of furniture. When you can see it.

But I have no room for it. None. And, to be honest, it matches nothing. I don't know what to do. So here are the options that I'm facing. I'll leave it up to you guys to tell me what to do with it.

1) Give it to the boy.
This has one pro (at least it would be used) and several cons (um, 'we're broken up' and 'I don't want Tyson on it' immediately spring to mind.) Ultimately, what keeps me from doing this is the thought that if we didn't ever patch things up, I would never see my recliner again. And then I would hate myself forever.

2) Put it in the basement.
The rational part of my mind knows that the basement in the new place is no better or worse than an unfinished basement in any other place. But seeing as how I've never lived in a place with an unfinished basement, I'm still creeped out. Spiderwebs everywhere. Spiderwebs mean spiders. Spiders crawling into my recliner. Into the stuffing. So that perhaps when the recliner is moved into a bigger location someday, the spiders would then exit and eat whoever is then sitting on the recliner. To be honest, I'm not really a fan of this option.

3) Goodwill.
Which would make me cry. And really, no one wants to see me cry. I'm not a pretty crier.

So I have no idea what to do. I can't put it in the bedroom and have any room to move at all. I can't put it in the living room and have any room to move at all. I can't put it in the kitchen, because - really? In the kitchen? Besides, I wouldn't have any room to move at all.

So I'm sad. I fear the recliner may have to pay the ultimate price in the name of continuing education. Thoughts? Comments? Salvation for the recliner?