This past Saturday as we were leaving Helen in the late afternoon, we drove around a bend and there, nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, was an Antique Store.
Not just an ordinary antique store, but one in an old Victorian house. I smiled at my husband (whom I love very, very much) and despite facing a three hour drive home, he very graciously pulled over and parked.
When I entered, my heart went pitter-patter. Antiques everywhere . . . in every nook and every cranny. Antiques on all three floors. I could have spent hours in there, but my husband and three sons were waiting in the van, and I had ten minutes . . . fifteen at the most.
I worked fast, and there, on the second floor hidden behind an old ironing board, I found a three-legged corner table. I knew it would be perfect for the bare, sad corner just outside our downstairs powder room at home.
Here's the best part (and you might want to sit down for this): the price was $15, as is.
As is???? It was perfect!
So my husband (whom I love very, very much) climbed up to the second floor, moved a pile of antiques out of the way, carried my table downstairs, paid for it, and rearranged our suitcases so it would fit it in the back of the van.
Did I mention that I love my husband very, very much?