Dear Olive,
I should not stop at Antique Malls outside my jurisdiction. This is a behavioral flaw. When I frequent said establishments, I immediately find myself in the predicament of either moving furniture across state lines, or grieving the perfect piece that I cannot get out of my head.
Also, this phenomenon is a precursor to divorce. Convincing my husband to scaffold the loading, shipping, and unloading of these pieces is both painful and redundant. Just how perilously close to the edge of "trial separation" is that Edwardian mirror worth?
But when that light beckons off the highway, I cannot look away. Like a lonely trucker scanning for a salacious beacon of adult entertainment among the highway signage, I too hunt my roadside kill.
On our recent journey to Missouri, Jason surely sealed his own fate when he good-naturedly inquired about whether I wanted to stop to look at anything along the way. After all, I did participate with him in locating both the world's largest wind chime and the world's largest rocking chair. With a glint in my eye, I suggested that we stop at the ring of antique malls at the next exit. Just to stretch our legs, I reasoned.
Little did I know that we were about to embark on Antique Mecca.
My heart stopped when I saw this metal fireplace mantle. I had been sourcing it for months on Craigslist to no avail.
So to solidify my appeal, I campaigned for this hutch instead, which we needed for the bathroom wall casing.
At $235 it was a steal. It fit perfectly between the wall studs and was thin enough to recess. With a drop-down desk to hide our toiletries... It had to be mine.
It took unusually little effort to convince Jason to permit me to call Uhaul... Which meant that I went for gold and campaigned for the mantle as well.
I think that my love language is "moving heavy furniture"... Seriously.
