I live in the sort of
household where it’s not unusual to be standing with two filled dinner
plates wondering where the dining table is.
Let’s see, it was in
the kitchen last month, then we moved it to mop the floor and decided it
fit better in the spare room. But after a cat gave birth in the tool
shed, there was a problem with too many tools and we had to fill the
spare room with extra tools that wouldn’t fit elsewhere. So we moved
the table again.
But where?
Nobody can accuse us of
not being creative decorators. I remember our dining table used to be in
the living room, but once we got the bookcases up, it no longer fit
there. It landed in the hallway, but that was too tight a fit.
Hey, who needs a dining
room? We are innovate to keep finding a new (sometimes even better) home
for the wandering table.
Imagine having guests
over for dinner. You invite them to sit down, only to notice there is no
longer a table where you though it would be. You’ve sent them to the
wrong room. "Sorry, the table was in here last week," you
explain. "I‘ll have to go look for it."
"No table in
here," the ever-so-helpful husband calls out from the kitchen.
Total embarrassment as your guests stare you down.
The chicken is getting
cold. Now where did we put that table this time?
This essay originally
appeared in
Woman of a Certain Age