Coffeetable conundrum

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They’re called cluster tables…how quaint

The other night I went shopping with my friend Heather. We traipsed around the mall in search of bargains until we came upon Pottery Barn. I have plenty of items in my home from Pottery Barn, but I’ve become pretty persnickety about the stuff they carry. If I want a vase, I’m not going to buy a “Made in China” vase that everyone else will probably buy too. I’ve decided to try to shop more locally when it comes to stuff like that.

Their furniture, too, isn’t really up to my liking in most cases. We have a large bookcase we got at PB about six years ago that’s never really impressed me — especially for the money we paid for it. (But there’s a long story about how they screwed up the delivery and we ended up with a $200 gift certificate and, as a result, some nice flatware.) We have to put coins under the legs to keep it stable, and it’s not made of high-quality wood. Actually, most of their wood furniture isn’t very good quality. So I generally avoid such items.

But the tables pictured above just caught my eye. Especially in their functionality. We have a big ol’ coffeetable in our basement (see below) that I have to move every time I want to work out. Kind of hard to lug the sucker around each time. And it’s not in the best of shape. So these cute lil’ tables seemed to really fit the bill…and I snagged a couple.

Little did I realize that my husband would be so…devastated. He’d bought the current coffeetable when he was still a swinging Chicago bachelor. He picked it up at one of the many resale shops for cheap. It served us well in our apartments, even though I wasn’t crazy about it. (Dig the lovely herringbone-like pattern.) A few years ago we got a new table for the living room and this one seemed to be better suited for our basement. Until I saw the cluster tables of course. When I brought Scott downstairs to see the new look, he broke into a fake crying jag at the thought of saying goodbye to it.

I felt kind of bad, even though he was joking around. Most of the furniture and decor in our house seems to have been picked out by me. Yet I’ve given him the opportunity to have a say in things, and he usually isn’t interested. (Although he did bring home a pretty nifty magazine rack.) Still, I feel a bit sad myself to see the table relinquished to a charity. I know someone else will get good use from it, but it has been a trusty standby for more than 10 years. Goodbye old table, old friend.

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I have a feeling Maggie will miss it too

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