Amazing What Two Crappy Tables Can Do..

It is 4.42 am, in the morning, am. Am, standing metaphorically for am-not-asleep.

Maybe it is a bout of my insomniacal vampire moments, but I have a funny feeling that is the after effects of a vodka night with my Frenchy.  We consumed many vodka/cokes from the comfort of our home and debated in louder and more animated tones as the night progressed, the meaning of life and other such ludicracies, as the transparent liquid drained its way out of the bottle and into each of our glasses.

Because of the fact that I can’t sleep, I thought I might use the time as constructively as I can and post a little post as I feel I have not been paying much attention to my blog recently. This led me to thinking about our Saturday just gone, yesterday, the day before the night came, this night, where I should be asleep, but am not.

Saturday was a hugely eventful day. Frenchy and I made headway into our new and improved lifestyle, moving very effeciently away from the lifestyle where one of us is shouting from the loo;

“Bloody hell! There are no toilet rolls left, What am  I going to do now??”

Or pouring milk into our coffee in the morning only to find that it has turned into cheese of the most stenchiest variety.

Or having a filing system that covers any flat surface, including floors.

We woke up and I went into military mode. I told Frenchy briskly to button up his collar and polish his boots, there was work to do.

We walked in formation down to the Monoprix with our wheely cow trolley and filled it up with necessities. Being the very poor people we are at the moment, we paid attention to the price stickers and were inventive with our meal choices.

On our way back home, we passed a brocante or flea market as I would say back home.  My eyes lit up and I felt a surge of excitement as we neared the swarms of Parisians sifting their way through rows of Formica tables heaving with very odds and lots of ends.

“Lets go!” I exclaimed, not even waiting for an answer.

I dragged Frenchy around, grumbling about how hungry he was and how we couldn’t afford to spend money. We found two crappy tables at the corner of the market just standing there, looking tired and cast away. I decided to buy them in that moment. Frenchy tried to talk me out of it. He kept reminding me that we can hardly afford to get through to the end of the month at the moment, let alone buy two tattered, battered tables.

But I felt the fear and did it anyway.

And how glad I am.

Because it spurred something within us as we dragged them back home.

One of the tables is our new computer corner. Where we can sit and type, organise bills, create tangible filing systems and generally look organised.

The other one has pride of place in our unit- less kitchen. We can fill it with stuff that is crammed on top of the fridge and the top can be used as a work station or Frenchy’s vegetable peeling station to be more correct.

Although these tables look shabby and forlorn, when we got them back home we started to discuss sanding them down and repainting them and for 40 euros for the two, I consider them a bargain once given a little after care.

With the sanding down discussion, came the where exactly to put them discussion, which turned into a massive clean out of bookshelves in the sitting room being moved to the hall way to make space. Drawers started to be opened and sorted, boxes emptied and all crap being binned.

4 hours later, we found ourselves sitting in the living room with a vodka and coke and Kate Bush crooning to us about the man with the child in his eyes, and admiring our new look home, clutter free, organised, homely.

We talked then of going wireless, putting up those shelves we have been discussing for ages and getting the old ones that were separating themselves from our walls fixed. Our enthusiasm mounted with all the talk, skillfully fuelled by the vodka, till there was no limit to what we could achieve.

Amazing how two crappy tables can make such a difference.

Eh?