Good news! My little sister has started reading my blog. Well, at least she read it once. She seems to think that this gives her the right to request posts. So she already did. We'll know if she is actually a loyal blog reader/follower if she sees this post, which I wrote at her request.
Alternative Title: The Table Saga
I have never had much interest in purchasing furniture. I spend my money elsewhere. Almost all of our furniture was given to us. Really. Our three couches, all gifts (old and well-used, but free). Our tables, dressers, etc. were all either gifts or inheritances. Nothing matches. Abby's bed: a futon given to us by a neighbor in Iowa.
Our first kitchen table was a laminate one with metal legs. We inherited it from Benjamin's grandfather. After a few years, my mother and I tried to spruce it up by painting it black. She did all the work.
That definitely improved it's appearance.
We received a card table for our wedding and have been sitting on card table chairs ever since. That's just how things have worked out for us. I would much rather buy a fancy phone, or a new laptop, than pay full price for furniture. Priorities.
Lately I have had it in my head that it was finally time for our family to graduate to a real kitchen table with real kitchen chairs. Novel, I know.
I started searching online for used tables and found several that I liked. I looked again a few weeks later and found one for a price that I liked. The only problem was that the table was over an hour and a half away and we only have a four-door sedan. How? Oh, and the temperatures were all below freezing the week that I decided to get a table from so far away. Luckily I visit-teach a generous, retired friend who is an expert in antiques. I sent her a picture of the table that I wanted. She not only approved of it but offered to help me get it. She probably regrets that now. She rented a trailer to pull behind her Kia Sorent.o and we were off.
She had me drive because it was almost dark already by the time we left, AND FREEZING. The trailer was noisy and rattled a lot because it was empty. I was nervous to drive someone else's vehicle while pulling a trailer. I didn't tell her that this was only my second time ever pulling a trailer. Yikes!
We drove through lots of windy country roads until we pulled into a street that the GPS told us to. I got out of the car, walked through the uncharacteristically large snowdrifts (It's Kentucky, enough already) and rang the bell. Twice. No one came to the door.
I returned to the car and called the man selling the table. He tells us now that the GPS is wrong (Thanks for the heads up!) and that we need to turn around. I'm pulling a trailer here people. Seriously!
So I pull forward to a location that is straight and then begin the slow and painful process of trying to back the trailer up. I tried several times. It was at that point that we were approached by a man dressed in black who had a flashlight. We rolled down the window and he started asking us lots of questions. He was pretty paranoid. He wanted to know why we had knocked on his door. He turned out to be a guard from the prison who works in the psychotic area. He said that he works with lots of unsavory characters and that he doesn't like people knocking on his door. He was shining the flashlight in our eyes.
My friend, not to be deterred by his alarming demeanor, asked if he would back up the trailer for us. He said no. Then he asked for our names. We told him what we were doing and he told us that we were not smart and that we should never go to anyone's home off of craig's list. Good point. We were already committed at this point, though, since we had driven almost two hours to get there and we were only a block away from our destination. Did I mention that the temperatures were below freezing? I worried at this point that my friend Carolyn would never talk to me again. She again asked if he would just back up the trailer for us. He agreed. She told me to get out. I was hesitant to get out of the vehicle and let this aggressive man take the wheel, but she insisted.
Somehow we made it safe to our real destination. The man there was probably hoping that we had brought someone with muscles to help him load the table, but we hadn't. It was just us. The cold was too much for Carolyn after a few minutes and I had no idea what I was doing. This kind man did most of the heavy lifting and did a fabulous job securing the table inside the trailer.
We had a good laugh as we drove away and headed home. We made it safe.
My new, beautiful table looks great in our dining room.
I found this table with six chairs and a leaf for only $275 and a harrowing trip to pick it up. I also paid Carolyn for the trailer rental and for her time and gasoline. :)
My next project is to put vinyl/plastic over the upholstery to protect it from spills. My older sister thinks that this is "chintzy," but I prefer it to the alternative. I know my messy little eater and I have seen other people's chairs that have been left unprotected.