A couple of weekends ago, Holly and I visited some friends in Little Rocky. David is in med school; he and his wife live in a small and well put together house that made Holly and I rethink our beige walls. Our trip back included a conversation about the difference between “homey” and “homely” and a final word on which we atmosphere we had created. It was the last one.
There was a craft fair in the hallways of my workplace. Ozone offices out of the Jones Center, a large complex of sporting gyms and community classrooms. On Friday, we lost several half hours of productivity because a few of the Ozone directors invested five dollars in handmade marshmellow shooters. If you weren’t with them, you were against them, apparently.
During a break from work I passed by an unfinished furniture booth. My first thought was, “If I buy something, Holly will be so surprised -” but my second thought was, “-at how bad of a job I did picking out furniture.” So instead I took her the next day to pick for herself.
Holly doesn’t trust me to haggle. When we were in Turkey together, I tried to impress her by buying scarves at a discount. Unfortunately, I mixed up the terms “five lira” and “fifty lira” and ended up paying WAY too much. So on Saturday we just paid the man his money and walked away with a nice pine wood entry table.
We made it as far as the door before, in a fit of horrific miscommunication, we juggled and dropped the table. The sound of wood on concrete broke my heart – one of the table corners was smashed and a leg cracked down its length. Both of us stood there, silently cursing, as another couple passed by. They were a young married pair like ourselves and carried the exact same table; their grip tighten as they passed us and I felt their pity.
“This could happen to anybody,” I called after them. “Pine’s a very soft wood.”
The damage was discouraging. We put it in the back of the car and tried not to think about it.
I am not crafty. I spent a year on maintenance and proved that I was only useful for jobs that called for a heavy hand. Items that called for intricacy were not my forte. However, that afternoon Holly and I went about repairing the table and staining it. I used wholly too much wood glue and unnecessary zip ties to put it back together.We took turns staining the table over a few days, recovering our mistakes. And in the end, it turned out pretty well. Now we just have to teach our cat to stay away from it.