Friday, June 10, 2011
A table with Danger
And it's a dirty table these days. The AC unit in the background like to blow chunks, literally, chunks of dust and such. Yes, I clean the filter, but something else needs some attention besides the filter. I don't know what.
Nonetheless, we're here today about the table.
He was hardly a cub scout at the time, and the women of the house were on a roadtrip to somewhere we didn't care much about. A daddy and a boy were home alone and without the counsel of women. There were bean burritos to eat, fires to build, and things to build. We also watched Tremors. Again.
We went to Home Depot in search of ideas. I was thinking a small living room table, something for the front of the couch, something to hold the endless stream of TV dinners, but I knew we lacked both the tools and the time to make something like a miniature butcher's block.
Remember: I am a poor carpenter.
After some exploration at Home Depot, and before the deadly ache of feets on concrete ruined the weekend, we settled on a preformed top and four little legs that would screw into the metal attachments you can't see in this picture.
We came hone, assembled the creation, and celebrated with another episode of Tremors. We were loving us some giant worms. And Ass Blasters, which might have been the best.
Upon the return of the maternal unit, he ran outside to show off the table, and I carried it in the house for proper placement by the couch. It later received a cloth cover.
Later, the fateful season arrived, and the table was cast out, sent to Raleigh to be with me, and there is where it remains. One leg is a bit gimpy, but it serves its purpose well holding journals, papers, and errant dust balls.
I doubt it ever sits under a spotlight in the Museum of 20th Century Art, and at some point, it'll feed termites somewhere, but for now, it fuels the occasional return of a memory and a weekend well spent.