One of the unwritten rules about owning a house for the first time is -- unless you're buying a very small house or are a supreme hoarder -- there will be a bit of emptiness to it. We were practically spilling out of our two-bedroom apartment; we had bought furniture with a more long-term mindset, which meant buying a couch that awkwardly fit our living room area and having our vast collection of books proudly on display in the guest room. We went into house hunting praying we'd find The Right House on our first round, because God help us if we had to renew our contract.
Within three months, we found The Right House and moved in. Some rooms -- like that living room with furniture that actually fit in it -- filled up nicely. Other rooms were downright sparse. Our dining room had zero furniture in it. Count it: zero pieces of furniture. I set up a our side table as well as card table draped with a tablecloth to keep things looking a little cohesive.
Meanwhile our actual dining room table was in the kitchen area. Our dining room table -- a gift from my in-laws after our wedding -- is a lovely, maple table that can expand out in a way to give everyone elbow room at Thanksgiving. And it has absolutely no place in the kitchen.
I never thought I'd be one of those people who actually held opinions about what style of furniture went where, but, now that we had the room to do it, I could see how our table was way too ornate to be considered a kitchenette table. But we weren't all to concerned at first: I mean, we had the monstrous task of actually getting settled into the house and figuring out how to juggle what seemed like 5 or 6 major payment plans (house, new car, two sets of tuition, rent on an empty apartment, payments for all the bells & whistles & services that go into making a house a home).
Once things seemed to be smoothed out a bit (minus a broken well pump, which I am still in sticker shock over...), I finally felt like I could start looking for a proper kitchen table. Being the Type A personality that I am, I already had an exact type of table in mind and I refused to compromise on a single aspect. After a few months, I found exactly what I was looking for, and at a steal, too.
One of the chairs looks like it's on its last legs (har har...) and it might need another coat of varnish, but it is exactly the table meant for this house. This is the part where I wax philosophical about something flawed being perfect for what you need, or something, but, really, this whole post has been more quasi-diary-ish anyway, so...yeah.
Regardless, I'm thrilled with finally having a kitchen table (and finally having furniture in our dining room). Time to put away the card table. Because, much like putting lipstick on a pig, putting a tablecloth on a card table does not make it a lady ... or a table. Or something. I need to start thinking these posts out better.
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