While at a free warehouse "sale" this week, I found a fabulous old retro-y table. I loved the metal, wheels, and adjustable sides. And since I could carry it, it came home with me. (I also found some great storage cabinets, but they are NOT something I can carry alone--or as the second person, so they may find themselves at Goodwill.) When describing the treasure to my mom, she immediately knew what it was. A typewriter table.
And then I felt very young. (Which is a rare thing these days as wrinkles keep deepening.) Although I am not so clueless as to not know about typewriters (those were around when I started college), I am young enough to not know where that item actually lived in it's prime in the real world.
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