When I was growing up, we had a table. When I moved out on my own to Albany, NY, there was a table. Lived in Massachusetts for a bit – complete with table. Then the big move to The Big Apple and you KNOW I had a table. I mean it was New York City, for crying out loud! Relocation to Rome, Italy brought una tavola in my life. In fact, in each of the many places I lived in the Eternal City, there was a table.
And now I’ve moved to England. And there is no table. Fantastic apartment, recently renovated. Just no table. No kitchen table. No desk either. Not even a living room table.
I guess I need to realize that “this is not Buckingham Palace” as my roommate – the owner of the apartment laughingly reminded me when I asked about a table. Tom is a completely lovely guy in every other way except for his stand on tables.
The thing about having a table is that it makes eating meals easier. It makes reading and studying and working more amenable.
Here is a photo of me working earlier today.
As you can see, the counter is quite ample and I would be tempted to use it as a table.
But there are no chairs either.
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