There is an entrance hall to our new condo that cried out for a small, but elegant table. Big enough to drop keys and a purse, but small enough that a wheelchair could get by.
A good friend loves tramping through consignment stores and suggested we visit one she likes in the unlikely chance that they might have something I could use.
Think of your mother’s (or grandmother’s) living room. Even the couple who owns the store which is down an alley off a main street, could be your grandparents. I’ve never seen bunions as big as the wife’s, but she shuffles around just fine, and she knows her stuff.
Assuring us that we could try out the table and return it, she insisted on “restoring” the top before we left. For $31.88 I got the perfect table.