Last week I had one of the most pathetic dreams of my life.
I dreamt about a table.
The past few times I've been to the junk store I saw a table. I kept being somewhat drawn to it. It had two pedestal legs and felt very solid. The top was pretty rough though- gouged and scratched. I looked at it and dismissed it- my mind was on finding clothes that fit, not hauling a table home.
Meanwhile, my subconscious had other plans. I think my subconscious was getting tired of the bubbles on the finish of my crappy Ikea dining room table because I had a dream, a dream in which all of my dining room table needs could be answered with this table.
When I woke up that morning I considered dropping everything to go get the table. Appointments be damned, my subconscious wants a table!
I have never felt like such a loser.
I chose to ignore the siren call of the table just to prove that I could. The table would float into my mind from time to time, but I had let it go.
On Sunday Lily, Nana and I went to the junk store and there was the table looking sad and needing a home. I inspected it closely. It was really well made, the right size for my dining room and only 24.99. After conferring with Nana I did the only thing a good little junkie could do. I took the legs off of it and brought it home.
Nice lines, huh?
Today I sanded it down and got on a few coats of primer. It needs another light sanding before I paint it white.
It's been a while since I've painted anything. Now I am back to having paint covered hands and arms.
It just feels right.