“This table will change your life.” This is what my brain tells me. Since COVID, our ten-year-old has taken over the dining room table to play Fortnite with his friends. We’ve allowed it because COVID sucks, he’s an only child and it’s how he’s maintaining relationships. We are mask-wearers, social- distancers, non-play-daters. If our son didn’t interact so much via online, I’d be more worried about his mental health. But mental health is not what it once was, and if his therapist isn’t worried, I’m not. There is no perfect scenario in COVID except living in New Zealand, but this table could change my life. I’ve been looking for this table all my life, or that’s what I tell myself when I start my search. There are a lot of copies. Of course, IKEA has a version. People are selling wrecked tulip tables for hundreds of dollars, but I want the tulip original, not some faux. My husband, who’s from Iowa, does not feel that this table will save his life. He doesn’t believe in the furniture GOD as I do. He believes in researching stuff so much that you forgot why you wanted it in the first place. This is a very Iowa thing to do. Iowans don’t believe in stuff. They darn socks multiple times. They believe in hard work. Before COVID, for me, a trip to the GOODWILL was an archeological dig. I believe stuff can change my life. I’ve never delved into my furniture GOD pathology, but I acknowledge it. I am a diamond in the rougher. I tell my husband the table is en route half-an-hour before it arrives. He’s exasperated because of course, he has no idea this table how this table will transform us. It’s a COVID free, contactless delivery. The couple who deliver it are young and hip and they say to me through the screen, “Happy it’s going to a good home.” The woman is carrying the base while walking in heels. He’s got a completely reasonably length beard, not ZZ Top, not vagina goatee. Like an expectant mother, I am relieved my baby’s coming from good people. I’m not completely sure how bad people could affect the life of a table, but objects have energy and if the devil dropped off the table, I might leave it outside for a couple of days. They might secretly be terrible people, but the show is good and I’m buying. My husband shakes his head when he sees the table. My son says, “That table looks like it’s from the 1300s.” I don’t mind. I’m swooning. This table is going to change my life.
