Tonight we'll be taking delivery of a new old used desk. A guy named Archie (I think) from Thrift Town
on Menaul offered to bring it to us since the desk is not disassembleable (I doubt that's a real word, actually, unless it is once it's published, in which case I deem it open source; have fun!), and therefore has not a hope of fitting into the Yaris.
The desk at which I'm currently sitting is a cherry veneer executive-style desk that has finally seen one too many moves. The drawers no longer open and close without threatening to fall off the rails, and the glossy surface is mapped with every scrape of coffee mug and cat scramble. The veneer has started to wrinkle and chip where my right wrist glides to and fro (yeah, I spend a LOT of time sitting here virtually sucking up the internet juices). It has served us grudgingly well, but now I hate it and I suspect the feeling is mutual.
So we visited a few stores featuring used furniture and “antiques” (read: “dusty, busted old stuff priced for hobbyists and/or the credulous”) located on Lead and Coal and perhaps one or two other avenues named after items on the Periodic Table, with no success. We were resigned to picking out another knock-down piece from Target or Walmart when we happened upon Thrift Town and decided upon one more perusal before heading home. Wallah! It was like the thing crooned to me from amongst the scarred offerings near the rear of the store. I was steered right to it. It's not perfect; a spot of shmutz on a corner, a dime-sized gouge on one side, but all easily repairable. Given the offerings in most thrift stores, it might as well have glowed like the Ark of the Covenant. SUCH a deal. We were informed by Archie that proceeds of sales benefit The Arc of New Mexico
, and that's a YUGE dollop of icing on the cake.
The new-to-us desk is not as large as this one, and doesn't have the storage space, but should prove much easier to move, because, *SIGH!*, yes, we are moving again, at the first of March. A two bedroom/one bath (the second bedroom is called a den on the floor plan, I suppose because it sports these funky double-doors) awaits us on the ground floor, in another building a mere few feet from what would be our back door if we actually had one. Apparently the previous tenant left under cloak of night, leaving behind a pile of odds and ends for which he obviously meant to return but was dissuaded from doing so, perhaps by the documents promising judiciary proceedings affixed to the outside of the door (and actually he should
be prosecuted, just for the way he deployed his cable. I mean, white coaxial attached by black brackets right up the wall? Who does
So. Disadvantages: One more freakin' move, because you know, what FUN. More expensive. Can't keep the bike out on the balcony because the balcony is now a patio and therefore vulnerable to thievery. A fireplace that just eats up wall space and makes furniture placement more problematic. No more leaving windows open to allow in those lovely desert breezes as we blithely come and go, secure in the knowledge that most felons don't bother with rappelling gear when sacking apartment communities. No letting cats out on the patio without saran-wrapping them to a table leg. Increased odds of insectual encroachment.
Advantages: A ground floor apartment is easier to move out of (because, c'mon, we WILL be moving again, I've accepted my fate). The unit has a washer and dryer included so we don't have to use the dilapidated and often rifled and busted-up machines in the laundry rooms. The den will become the office/study/bike room, so the bike will be relatively safe after all. The cats with have more room in which to establish territories and render skirmish lines. And, most importantly, the odds of my wife bouncing down a flight of stairs will diminish. I won't miss hauling the bike up and down, either.
All in all, a practical move. As I always convince myself when it's inevitable and there's not a flipping thing I can do about it anyway.