The Coffee Table's Near Death Experience

I am officially in purge mode. A few weeks ago, I made the commitment to get rid of all of the things in my house that haven't been used in a year.

Under this rule, I am allowed to keep my deep fryer, snow cone maker, and disco roller skates.

Under this same rule, I must part with my South Beach Diet cookbooks, 3/4 of the shoes in my closet, and the entire contents of my living room.

Every day for the past week, I've entertained a steady stream of new friends that I've met on Craigslist. A college student from Temple hauled away my husband's desk; a grad student from Penn bought our basement sofa. My living room furniture went to an older couple with a beach house in New Jersey.

I was fine with selling the living room set--which included an antique pine coffee table--to the couple until they announced their plans to defile it.

"This is perfect," the woman told me as she examined the table. "We'll just cut the legs off and paint it white," she told her husband.

"Nope," I said, pulling the table out of the room. "You can't have it now."

The woman looked genuinely confused when I told her that I consider antiques to be living pieces of history.

I feel that it is necessary to mention at this point that I am the granddaughter of an antique clock restorer.

"How would you like it if someone cut your legs off at the knees?" I asked her.

The woman said that that was something that she probably would not like very much at all.

"If you are going to sell something, you can't dictate what people do with it," my husband told me when he got home from work.

Surprisingly, the living room set is still in our living room.



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My sister's wedding recently was featured on RUFFLED. Check it out!