Over a year ago, when Nathan and I were engaged and I was living in my teeny 1 bedroom condo, I decided I NEEDED a desk for my sewing machine to live on. Not just any desk, one with character. After perusing Craigslist for a grand total of about 30 seconds, I found it. It lived in Ocoee. It was blue and had little spindly nimbly bimbly legs. I told Nathan we had to go- immediately. Obviously a desk with such character would be in high demand and I needed to beat out any other potential competition.
Okay. So there was no other competition. Whatever.
When we arrived to the little old lady’s house that was selling it, she invited us in to a living room full of randomly placed old furniture. Apparently she and her husband were going through a bunch of their belongings and kicking lots of it to the curb (aka my condo). I knew immediately that I wanted it, despite the horrible paint job and general wobbliness of it. I didn’t care- I still loved it. And besides, it added character- my main requirement.
After I told her I’d take it, she really started to seem like she didn’t want to sell it. She started telling me stories about how she did every piece of homework ever assigned to her on that desk. How she had painted it blue (an internet tutorial could have REALLY helped her out here. Too bad it wasn’t invented yet.) How she put that white knob on it. Clearly, she was very emotionally attached to this desk… But, it was my turn to be emotionally attached to this desk! After all, she’s cleaning house! As we loaded it into the car, I told her I promised to take good care of it and she quickly turned her head away. Was she crying? Maybe. I like to think she was. Not in a “haha! I made an old lady cry” kind of way, but in a way that I knew I was getting a very special desk that had been oh so loved its whole life. So what if its REALLY wobbly?
I had big plans for this desk. I was going to take it home and fix it up and love it every day. But I got kinda busy. I was a grad student and graduate assistant. I got married, got pregnant, moved, and had a baby, all in about 2.5 seconds. This left no time for my little blue desk. My sewing machine still lived on it, but I didn’t love it the way the little old lady loved it. I knew if I fixed it up that I would. Now, I have time. Okay, not really, but I’m MAKING time for my little wobbily blue desk with spindly legs.
I’ll keep you updated.