I have a story to share. I wouldn’t tell it to just anyone, just my friends!—because it isn’t too flattering (of me). And there aren’t a lot of pictures, because at the time I was WAY too upset to think about getting the camera out.
*******************************
Meet my kitchen table.
I think it was the first major new furniture purchase of our marriage! We had been using a circa-1960s metal-and-formica table set inherited from my husband’s parents. So I bought this table about 13 years ago, I think. I chose upper-end chairs that are actually comfortable to sit in, and although the table is mainly solid oak, I purposefully chose a laminate top because I knew I had many years of small children ahead of me.
It has been a very good table.
But here we are, 13 years later, and I am so over the medium-oak finish and the laminate top. And it is showing some scratches, chips, and other wear.
For no good reason other than that, I have been drooling over a gorgeous table at Down East Home for over a month. Picture, if you will, a rustic wood top and chunky turned legs in a creamy color… And with two leaves, this table could be big…which is generally a good thing for my family.
It spoke to me. Honest it did. “Take me home, Korrie!” it cried on each and every one of my weekly visits….
And I wanted to. But first—I had to measure it.
Uh-oh. The table, without any leaves, was just a little smaller than my table with one leaf. And those big chunky legs made it so three chairs couldn’t fit on each side (a necessity for my family). With a leaf in, it was VERY large (with two, you could almost land airplanes on it). So I told myself it wasn’t meant to be.
But I foolishly kept on visiting it.
Yesterday, it was on sale! I thought to myself, “I can get new (smaller) chairs!” Or “I can live with it with a leaf in it! It’s not that big!” Famous last words.
And so…I bought it.
My dear husband (who hates to move furniture) and I hauled our table out to the garage (it's heavy), went back to pick up the new table, brought it in the house (it's REALLY heavy), and got it in the kitchen. My husband, sensing impending disaster, I'm sure, escaped downstairs. My older boys and I added the leaf to the table, and I stepped back to look….
The thing is GIGANTIC!
Suddenly the enormity (pun intended) of my stupidity comes crashing down on me, and I seriously thought I was going to pass out. I got nauseous and had to sit down on the floor.
You see—this store does NOT return your money; it will only give store credit.
I was seriously sick. I went downstairs and cried and apologized to my husband. He rose to the occasion magnificently and assured me everything was going to be all right (not that I believed him at that point). He didn't get impatient or upset with me. He called the store and talked to the manager, asking if they would make an exception (I was curled up in a fetal position on the floor, sobbing)...the manager was not encouraging, but said he would "e-mail corporate" and see what they said; we should hear back Tuesday because of the long weekend
I'm guessing this is all code for, "I don't want to be the bad guy, so I'll pass the buck up the line."
One of my friends used to manage for that store, and she says it's not likely.
So...for the next several years, everyone in my family may be getting gifts from Down East Home! Isn't that exciting??
And I told my extended family to “Please see me for all your future furniture purchases.”
Anyway, I couldn't stand to look at the thing. Dear husband patiently helped me haul the MASSIVE BEAST back out of the house and take it back to the store. I'm guessing it was gone from the store for about an hour and a half, tops. Then he helped me haul the "old" table back inside. And he fed me chocolate.
I am much less of a basket-case now. Money-wise--it came out of my furniture earnings, so it's not like it was grocery money or something. But still, it was a DUMB DUMB thing to do. I, who am well-known to have buyer's remorse in spades, bought a very expensive item from a place that didn't accept returns! An item that I had measured and KNEW was too big! But I bought it anyway!
Gah, I'm getting nauseous again just thinking about it.
The moral of the story is, “Don’t let your heart overrule the tape measure.”
So how was your weekend??
