It was a gift. And you know me and second-hand-items…
I just can't leave 'em alone. I see their bones. Their frames. Their structure. And their potential. I see what beautiful lovely things they once were and what beautiful things they could be once again.
One of my most favorite things to do is to find salvageable goods and refurbish them to new life. Things used to be made to last and I admire the craftsmanship and quality that went in to such pieces. I have a huge chest in my living room that is so beautifully handcrafted. You can tell from looking at it how it was planned and executed so professionally. By a real person. Who dove-tailed each corned and hammered in each nail. It's just lovely.
Hence, the appearance of this gem. My sister gave it to me. Because she loves me AND because she took one look at this bad boy and knew it would need some work. Lucky for me, I'm willing to put the elbow grease into anything that will serve me well once completed. I have high hopes for this little lovely table. I'm debating between using it as a potting table on my porch or using it to replace a table in my kitchen. Ah, the anticipation! It's a nail-biting scenario, isn't it? Can you barely stand the excitement?
Let us look at this table as a symbol of older things. So what if they take a little work! So what if they don't look quite like the perfect, packaged tables available at your local department store! So what if there are molds growing in the drawers that need to be blasted out! (Okay, so that one didn't really work in my analogy…) But do you see my point? It has character! It has pizazz! It has a distinct and unique beautiful-ness that isn't streamlined into the rush of everyday, disposable life.
Ah, sweet life on the homestead. A moldy, old, cob-webbed, dirty, unique, imperfect, homestead. That couldn't be more beautiful. I see the potential and I shan't sleep until it is reached!
That was a lie. I will sleep.
Because I like sleep.
Probably more than I like restoring furniture.
Guess that means it's nap time.