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Broke Wife, Big City
Let's just table the
issue, shall we?
By Aprill Brandon
For years, my husband and I have harbored a shameful secret. A secret
so hideous, so horrifying, so wholly conducive to alliteration, we have
hardly dared to even whisper it out loud.
And the worst part is we have carried this secret with us from state to
state, apartment to apartment, every time we move, from Ohio to Texas
to now Boston. Each time, with each new set of friends and colleagues,
our pain and embarrassment only growing as we again try and miserably
fail to hide this...this abomination from their innocent eyes.
This shame has only increased ever since we got married and became
somewhat upstanding citizens (hunchbacked citizens?). I mean, we pay
taxes (occasionally), for crying out loud! We fully intend to register
to vote someday probably before we die! We're even going to be parents
(because as it turns out, anyone can)!
And yet, here we are. Two grown adults, living in our very own house
that is "technically" owned by our landlord, and without a single
surface to eat on or a chair to sit on that is not of the office
variety.
Yes, my friends, my husband and I have never owned a set of table and
chairs. For the past, oh, eight years or so, ever since we met, we have
been reduced to eating on the couch like a pair of...of ANIMALS (or
frat guys...same difference).
Now, you're probably thinking, "How in the world do two grown adults go
without a table and chairs for eight long years!?!" Of course, for all
I know, you could be thinking "Cheese may just be the world's most
perfect food." And I'd have to agree with you there. But for the sake
of continuity, let's assume you're thinking the former.
It's not like we didn't try. We always meant to get an actual dining
room set. But other, more pressing financial matters got in the way,
such as paying the vet approximately three million dollars because our
dumb dog tried to chew his own tail off and the fact we couldn't live
ANOTHER day without owning Rock Band 2.
Although, one time we did get as far as purchasing a second-hand table.
Which we had for years. But since we had no chairs to go with it, it
ended up turning into "The Giant Shelf of Random Items We Were Too Lazy
to Put Away." And then there was the winter we actually used our patio
furniture as our "official" indoor table and chairs, which ended after
the Great Thanksgiving Collaspe of '09. We also tried to go all
bohemian a few times, making people sit on pillows on the floor as they
ate off the coffee table, but that stopped once I hit 30 and the
process of getting up off the floor started to resemble one of those
bugs that gets caught on its back and can't right itself.
And then...then a miracle happened. Like a deus ex machina plot twist
(yeah, who didn't pay attention in English class now, Professor
Greenberg?), the hand of God himself came down from the heavens and
plopped a a beautiful, dark wood six-seater with red velvet chairs
right in our dining room.
Or, to be more specific, our friend was moving to Chicago and said
"Hey, you want this guy?"
And we did want that guy. Oh, how we wanted that guy. Finally! A place
to have a nice, intimate dinner! A place for guests to actually sit and
eat without our aforementioned dumb dog breathing right in their face!
A place to whatever else since I need a third example thanks to that
annoying "Rule of Three" writing principle!
I have to tell you, it has completely changed our lives. All two times
we have used it in the past three months.
We are now officially civilized.
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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