I was glad someone else finally agreed with me. And even better, that they were going to pay for it.
My first instinct was sweet, gimme your check, I will keep my crappy furniture and we will call it even. Ok? No? Whaddya mean no?
Seems the insurance company is onto people like me ... they send a salvage company to come get your old stuff, thus forcing me to go on a hunt for new stuff.
Here's the thing. I don't like new stuff. I like old stuff. Well, not MY old stuff, someone elses old stuff from long ago.
So, I found the most amazing, breathtaking bedroom set from the late 1800's brought over from England that made me swoon. It was well under my insurance company appointed budget and came home to live with me.
I love it!!!! It makes my heart all gushy everytime I think about someone else opening the drawer a hundred years ago. I love the old oak with it's amazing inlay work and love to think about the man who toiled over creating it. I love, love, love it.
Until....
One of the pieces was a nightstand, known in its former life as a chamber pot stand.
I explained to Zachary what it was.
He looks at me like I have two heads.
He opens the cabinet door.
He sticks his head in.
He sniffs.
He looks at me and says, "Funny, it doesn't SMELL like old English poop."
I still love it, but, he may have sullied that piece for me just a little. Just sayin'.
Love to all~
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