I know what you thought when you saw the headline of tonight’s post. You thought that I had decided “What the heck? Life’s too short! It’s only money!” and coughed up the (large amount of) cash for that amazing 1960s-ish turquoise L-shaped booth bench that I was swooning over in last night’s post. As you will probably recall if you read that post, my fear was that if I didn’t nab that gorgeous thing, I would suffer from non-buyer’s remorse about it for the rest of my life.
Well, I am pleased – sort of – to tell you that I have done the financially sensible thing and held off, for the time being, on that astounding piece of furniture. (But just wait. That could change.) Instead I want to tell you about how I spent the princely sum of twenty-five bucks and bought myself a thing that has made me happier than happy ever since. In fact, it makes me as happy as my vintage industrial Westclox clock does! And since they are both installed in the Manse’s kitchen, that’s a lot of happiness going round. (Just think what would happen if the turquoise bench were added to the mix!)
Anyway, as you’ve figured out from the photo atop this post, the purchase in question is a midcentury (mid-20th-century, that is) telephone table. If you’ve been reading this blog forever, you might recall my post about another case of non-buyer’s remorse from last January, when I was beating myself up for not buying this telephone table at a rock-bottom bargain price:
Well, people, when I saw the latest telephone table at the Hidden Treasures thrift shop in Tweed a couple of weekends ago, I didn’t make that mistake again. While I would have felt thriftier if I’d got it for, say, $15 instead of $25 – and in fact briefly considered not buying it because I thought the price a tad steep for a thrift shop – I soon came to my senses and realized that a) it was gorgeously midcentury; b) it was wildly useful; and c) I would never forgive myself if I didn’t. Plus there was a sign from heaven in the fact that the vehicle I happened to be driving that day was Raymond’s red truck, which meant that it would be no problem getting it home.
So I bought it and brought it home and installed it beside the Harvest Gold clothes dryer that for some unknown reason has since my childhood here had pride of place in the Manse’s kitchen. And it looked absolutely smashing. It looked even more smashing when I added our fully functional red rotary-dial telephone to the table part, and better still with a notepad and pen beside the phone and all the local phone books (such as phone books are these days, which is to say: thin) in the slot created expressly for phone books below the table part of the setup.
And now whenever the phone rings or I have a call to make, I sit myself down in the very comfortable midcentury-design chair of my telephone table, and I pick up that old-fashioned receiver that has such a nice (because well-designed) feel and heft to it, and I have myself a good old chat. Much to Raymond’s amusement, because I think he thinks the whole idea of the telephone table is silly. Fortunately for me, he humours me.
I think my telephone table is splendid. I doubt that too many of them are still in use these days, and of those that are, I doubt that many are in as great shape as mine is. I am as pleased as punch about it. Mainly because it is usefully great. But also: because it has kept me from at least one round of non-buyer’s remorse.