Buttercup is marrying Humperdinck in little less than half an hour, and I'm tired of talking about it, so I won't bore you with the epic tale (rhymes with fail) of
She found one. It's in her price range, it's cherrywood (what she wanted), it's of exactly the (rather weird) dimensions she wanted, it's in the style she wanted, and it has two drop leaves (which she wanted) that are ridiculously easy to put up and down.
Those are the reasons she should have liked it. My reasons for liking it are these: it's an actual kitchen table, not some modified TV tray, but it's not obtrusively big or ungainly; I can move it without having to slide it or requesting help; it's a hand-made antique from the 1880's; it's a gorgeous burgundy color rather than brown (I hate brown); it has a secret drawer in one side of the center part; the drop-leaf struts are made of solid iron, are obviously from the 19th centruy, and have a manufacturer's name on them; and the piece is in perfect condition--no wobbling, ill-fitting joints, or anything.
It also represents the first time I have ever actually liked a piece of wood furniture. I normally hate wood furniture unless it is painted (see, supra, my problem with brown), but I looked at this piece and saw the decorating scheme of an entire cottage spin out around it, and I liked what I saw, and understood that someday I must also own an escritoire. I want to feel this way about a potential spouse.
Instead, this thing between the table and me is more like one of those movies in which one dude asks his best dude friend to take out his, dude 1's, girlfriend while dude 1 is out of town, and his best dude friend falls in love with the girlfriend and has to deal with the fact that he can't have her even though she clearly loves him and he clearly loves her.
Yes, this is with furniture, but I'm telling you: this table loves me back.
But the table is $220, the shop where I found it doesn't have layaway, and I'm unemployed. And now one of
(Is this an old-person thing, these extremes in furniture shopping--not liking anything you see even when it's exactly what you say you're looking for OR deciding you will purchase a rather significant piece of furniture without even bothering to look at the thing? Is Grandma's friend just extremely rich or extremely impulsive, or both? Is Grandma just a loon? I know the answer to that one, at least.)
So I'm probably not going to get this table, and that sucks. I could honestly use it, and, more, I honestly desire it. And I love feeling desire, because I almost never do: I make most of my purchases--and life choices in general--from boredom (the necklace from Wal-Mart, the tailored vest from the Arc) or a feeling of necessity (toilet paper, mascara).
If anyone feels the desire to buy me a table, feel free. If not, though, I've gotten to see something I genuinely, intensely liked, and it's been a really cool experience.