The Wife picked me up a typewriter table (on wheels!) at the dump today.
I assiduously avoid the swap shop when we go there, at least on grumpy days like today, when a winter's worth of yard-garbage is waiting for us to clear it out. I'm always afraid that I might end up loading up with as much junk as we're unloading, and what's the point of that?
But I have to admit this is a pretty good find. The finish is gleaming, the structure is surprisingly solid and non wobbly (I really thought those wheels would be rolling all over my crooked, 300 year old floor.) and it means I don't have to rearrange my desk when I want to set aside the keyboard and do some proper noisy typing.
She got a new mid-century office chair for herself, too, more comfortable than the one she's been using. And she found a home for some tacky plastic newfangled mop products our tenants left behind. (They're crap, but somebody might as well use them before they end up in the landfill.)
Please don't attach too much significance to the books on the shelf. A lot of those came from the dump as well. (The pipes, however, were all hand-selected.)
As far as dumps go, we're blessed with a pretty special one.
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