There is a new weapon in my large and illegal arsenal: The Picnic Table
of Disembowelment.
I admit that I may, in my excitement, be exaggerating the punitive
powers of my lawn furniture. But it is definitely, at the very least
, the Picnic Table of Painful Splinters. And that's fine! Because even though
the table is unsuitable for sitting, it only cost – get this! – $79!
Jessica Burgess
Clearly Unedited
I am so, so cheap. But not cheap in a good way, the way where I’d have
lots of money to save for abstract concepts such as "retirement" and
"food."
Instead, I'm the kind of cheap jerk who, instead of buying one nice
outfit that would serve me well through many seasons of yo-yo dieting,
will buy a plethora of stuff from the clearance rack at a clothing store
that I will not name except to say that it sounds sort of like "Cold
Gravy." Then, when everything falls apart in the washing machine, I have
to go to work in boxer shorts and T-shirts I got for free by signing up
for credit cards (unmanageable debt is an issue we'll tackle in another
column).
This is why, when I decided that I needed a picnic table for the yard, I
was appalled to find that the least expensive started at around $250.
"Hell to the no," I told the guy who does all my housework while I sit
on the sofa and eat fatty foods. "We'll just have to sit on the grass.
Or I'll make chairs out of newspaper or something."
"I bet we can find a less expensive one," he said, and suggested that we
check the Web site of a home- improvement store I will not name, except
to say that it sounds kind of like "Blows."
We were in luck, and rushed to "Blows" straightaway.
Understanding that the bargain price of $79 would probably mean we were
responsible for some assembly, we weren't surprised to find that the
table fit into a box.
But when we got it home and dumped it out, we were nonplussed to
discover we had just spent $79 on a pile of slightly rotted
two-by-fours. As we stared, a spider emerged from the rubble and
scampered away. Somewhere, off in the distance, a wolf howled.
"It's fine," the guy said bravely, and put the table together, wearing
gloves to protect his hands from pine sap and errant spikes of wood.
Now that he's finished, it looks beautiful. Until you get too close,
because that's when you see the forest of splinters.
But not to worry: I have tweezers. They were pretty inexpensive, but I'm
sure they work fine.
This explains why Jessica always looks so slovenly. E-mail her at
jburgess@quickDFW.com.
