A giant piece of nothing.

Hello, Sunday evening Internet. We have just been helping a friend move in -- well, Steve has been doing that, while I have been helping Jane walk up and down and up and down and up and down the stairs, and making something not too complicated to eat. Each according to his abilities.

While we were at it, we seized the opportunity to foist off our dining room table and a sofa, both of which I have been dying to get out of the house so that we might have room for (among other things) a larger, more rectangular table. Then we might have more than one person over at once without creating the dinner-time equivalent of a clown car, as we did for the very occasion of the table's last night in our house.

We do not yet have this larger table, of course (where would we have put it?) so suddenly we have a giant piece of nothing instead. It's quite nice, this bare expanse, skirted by our tableless chairs like so many party guests reluctant to go out on the dance floor. So broad and unblemished by furniture, so easy to keep clean! I am charmed.

I may be less charmed when it takes our new table weeks to arrive and there is nowhere to put things and we have eaten dozens of picnics in our own home and my in-laws arrive for their long-since-scheduled visit and have to eat off the coffee table. Maybe by then one of the more adventuresome chairs will have approached another chair and asked it if it wants to do the electric slide.

Comments

[redfox]

Update: Monday morning
Already less charmed.

[Elsa]

Just look at the space. Look at the space and repeat: calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean.

I'm certainly biased: our tiny dollhouse apartment is crammed with furniture, so the notion of a BIG SPACE tweaks at some pretty deep stuff in me.