Today, I bought a set of livingroom furniture. We honestly do not need it, but the fact of it that it was such a nice set, white shadow casting on white upholstery, and the lines were so nice and...well...
See for yourself.
At $150 for the set, I just couldn't NOT get it. It has been in storage for some time, and looking on line at the manufacturer, we realized that this is a very expensive set of furniture. We decided to spring and have it professionally cleaned.
I am beginning to realize how much I love furniture. A friend asked me, "What on earth do you do with a house that size?" and I said, "I fill it. One piece at a time, and I am enjoying myself a great deal."
He said, "Well, if you ever see a sofa table or something like that, I am looking for a table to put in my diningroom when I make a fancy meal."
I promised that I would keep my eyes open. While brushing my teeth it came to me. I had the perfect table. I quickly e-mailed the store on the other side of the state, got dimensions and a photo and forwarded it to him.
I felt like a matchmaker, and I couldn't wait to see what he thought.
I found myself dreaming. Wouldn't it be fun to do this for a living? To collect furniture and resell it?
I had a shocking experience today. Tim and I were at the Walmart. We checked out and I saw my friend. Stopped me dead in my tracks as I recognized her smile, and that thick beautiful hair of hers that I always admired so much. I am afraid that I gaped a little. I couldn't help it. My dear friend has been dead for a couple years.
"Don't think I'm strange," I began, and my voice sounded gaspy and not my own. "Did you have a sister Kathy?"
That smile that I loved so much came again, and it really was remarkable, the similarity. She assured me that she did not.
"You look so much like my friend..." I marveled, and Tim stopped too.
We walked to the car in a stupified silence.