Yesterday we took a drive in the country to view the fall leaves as there aren't many maples and elms in San Francisco. We browsed in several antique shops, and Flip bought a library table to use for his digital recording studio. It's a gothic-looking dark oak, suitable for Halloween, that completely fills one wall of our small apartment. I keep expecting hell bats to fly out of it. The witch in Hansel and Gretel might have owned such a table, if her gingerbread house had been bigger. Did I mention our apartment is small?
We rented a truck to pick it up today as the antique store doesn't deliver. We got a panel van that previously transported 412 illegal aliens, all of whom smoked. We stopped and bought a can of Ozium, which is quite nasty stuff in its own right. It did nothing. I felt as if my lungs were exploding all the way there and back, even with the windows open. I hate smokers. HATE them.
The rental company hadn't packed any furniture pads, so we had to find something in the Town of the Table to ease its pain in the van. "'We'll just buy some blankets," said my valiant husband, owner of the verylarge table. I declined to spend even more money on this project. He said I was raising my voice. In public. He slammed himself into the van and said we should just forget the whole thing.
I yanked his door open and yelled, "Are you CRAZY? You want to abandon something we spent that much money on?" (I didn't say "blew." Or "wasted." Really. And I only yelled loud enough to get his attention.) I looked at the receipt. In small print at the bottom, it said, "All sales final." Of course they are. Who on earth would keep such a table after coming to their senses?
"I guess we'll find out what's Important to you," he said. Implication: If I am so crass as to care what the largest piece of furniture I've owned since I gave my father's piano to my brother looks like, I couldn't possibly care about his feelings. And at that moment, I didn't.
We agreed that we didn't want to be in each other's company just then, so I took a walk. I wondered if I'd have to walk home to the city, which is about 60 miles from where we were.
I checked out two other antique stores. I realized I was hungry, since I had only had coffee before leaving, so I headed for Victoria's Cafe, breakfast-all-day. I love places that serve breakfast all day. I thought about how far from home I was. I wondered if the trains even run that far. I considered which shoes I was wearing in order to calculate the feasibility of walking home. At least my lungs would air out.
I knew he would have a problem at the bridge because there is a toll, and he rarely carries cash. I keep a quarter roll or two in the car for meters as parking tickets in this city are like personal hate mail from God. But I knew he wouldn't think of using them at the toll booth. Men don't consider coins real money. This thought didn't fill me with pleasure, even though I would have liked it to. Oh, wait. We weren't IN our car. We were in the big, smoky van. And I was the only one with cash money on me.
I reached for my cell phone to call him a second before it rang. We met on a street corner under a large, hanging pumpkin filled with mums, and had breakfast at Victoria's. Things always look more mellow with a full stomach.
I noticed a liquor store. Liquor stores have boxes. We asked if they had any empties. They did, already broken down. We took all of them and spread them in the van to protect La Table. We went back to the antique store and Flip and the owner hauled it out and slid it into the van, coffin style. How appropriate.
I have to be fair. I didn't tell Flip how much I disliked the table before we bought it because he was so taken with it. So basically, I deserve what I get. If I had spoken up, we wouldn't have bought it. But he probably would have sulked. I can't stand it when he sulks.
I have created a monster.
I think both my lungs are cancerous after today's ride. Or maybe I have black lung disease. Since I have never smoked or mined coal, this is highly unfair. I hate smokers so much.
We had to replace the half-tank of gas we used before returning the van. $67. 43. This is one expensive table.
It does look better than the Ikea desk we set out on the sidewalk. Maybe we'll actually bond. If I live long enough. And my hives go away.
