I remember a saying from long ago, that you know you are old when you look around and see that you only have nice furniture. I think that stuck with me and I clung to the notion that if my furniture was crappy, I would still be young. (You can see how the math doesn’t work with that.) Lloyd and I are in our 50s, and I have gladly used a TV tray table as the end table by the couch. There. Can’t call me old!
However, on Saturday I wanted to look for a footstool/ottoman for the chairs. I don’t mind curling up in a chair, but every so often I would like to stretch out. The ‘At Home’ store had a variety, but only one that I liked.
It’s not super-padded, but it’s a good height and it has storage inside. I’m stashing my blanket in there for now.
Anyway, as we were on our way to the check-out, we passed some tables. There was a style that I really liked, and Lloyd liked it, too. Ladies and gentlemen, the TV tray table is out, and now we have…….
…. an actual table. (That’s a bowl of Halloween candy on it.) While it’s real furniture and it’s nice, I think I can dodge the ‘old’ label by having that Glad Press-N-Seal on the edge of the sofa. That’s not nice, right? (It’s to keep the cats from scratching.)