I do most of my writing at the kitchen table. It’s an oval, wooden table that one rainy afternoon, several moons ago, we salvaged from someone’s backyard. We knocked on the front door and a man answered. And we asked if it would be okay if we could give the table a new (and dry) home and when he nodded we dragged it up the lawn and into the truck. I’m not 100% sure we didn’t steal this table. English was not that man’s first language. So there is that chance, albeit small, that he thought we said we would take the table out of the rain for him. There is also the slight chance that he wasn’t the table’s owner but the plumber or a visiting cousin.
It’s a wonky table. One of those tables with a short leg. I keep trying to even it out and balance it with scraps of paper so it won’t wobble when we’re eating. I’ve sat at many wonky tables in restaurants and the like and they’re probably the second most annoying thing in the world. I’m not sure what would be the Foremost Most Annoying Thing but for me it would have to be undersized underwear. Like a bra. In the wrong size.
What do you find annoying? (this post not included)
I despise bras that flatten and spread your lady humps instead of enhancing them. For some reason I inevitably end up buying one of these ill-fitting garments every time I go underwear shopping, despite being in possession of all my measurements (but possibly not all my marbles). It’s got to the point where I carry a measuring tape with me. This has served me well in IKEA but not so much in the Ladies Underwear Section.
But I digress. I wanted to let you know that I share my writing space with a bowl of fruit and a heap of notebooks. And the table cooperates nicely while I’m writing but not so much when we all sit down for supper.