I live in Warwick, New York, where the opportunity for finding a great antique piece is only as far away as the next enticing barn sale and your inclination to attend, despite the spending freeze your husband may have suggested appropriate. On a crisp day at the end of the summer, I was heading to our pool club with kids in tow and out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed the sign: Estate Sale. Whoa! Hold the phone! As safely as I could with the adrenaline hitting my system, I veered quickly to the side of the road to the dismay of my confidants, groaning in the back seat, feuding momentarily at a halt to warn, “Daddy is going to be maa-ad if we go there.”
Seizing the Moment
Waving my hand to signify that it was too late for considerations of the like, and to show that I meant business and that no argument was going to happen here, I simply stated, “We’re going in.”
The Perfect Find
I am sure they were happy to see me coming with my three reluctant children, in bathing suits none the less, boisterous and looking very much like they wanted to touch everything. I was entranced. Before me stood a 200 year old house. It was gorgeous. Who really could have resisted? On the lawn was a treasure undeniable. A farm table like… I guess I would say… a sideboard or what today would be a sofa table. It was narrow. Too narrow to be a real table but something that would go great in an entryway, and man, it was old. It was beautiful and old and damaged. Just how I love it.
The Backlash
Anyway, $40 later, paid by crumpled personal check luckily procured from the bottom of my purse, it was mine. Little did I expect, my husband at first, really actually was very mad. He wanted to make me the first woman to take a return to a garage sale. He didn’t seem to have the vision I had. I thought, surely, he would be thrilled I jumped on this deal. No such luck. At first.
The Magic
Long story short, I kept the table. Two weekends ago, in the dead of winter, my husband’s idle hands got to work, needing a project to distract his middle suburbia restlessness. He went to Loews, picked out an unfinished piece of wood and the labor of my love began. He created a great desktop, painstakingly sanded and stained dark to fit our little treasure. He took off the old narrow piece of wood which I immediately repurposed elsewhere and he attached with great artistry, I happily agreed, our new upgrade. A quick touch up of paint to the base and we have a desk!
The Pay Off
The area upstairs outside the bedrooms at the top of the staircase, is now a shabby chic office! It was formerly unused space and now, I am happy to report, every last child and their friend is fighting over its occupancy rights at any given moment. It was supposed to be my office, but it’s ok. Moms don’t usually get to indulge in luxuries too often. But for me, this little luxury has scratched my itch for something new… or old and then new, should I say. At least, for the moment.
