I love antique furniture.
I think I got my love of antique furniture when I was just a little girl.
My grandmother had a handmade wooden rocking chair that my grandfather had made for her when they got married. She had a horsehair sofa that pricked my legs and arms whenever I sat on it, but I loved it. She also had a coffee table that had leather all around the edges and glass in the middle. I wasn’t sure if the coffee table was antique, but I loved it. Last month, I saw the newspaper where there was an antique sale not 5 miles from where we lived. I kept nattering to my husband about wanting to go to the antique sale. After two days of listening to me talk about antiques and the sale, he relented and told me we would go. I had grand ideas about seeing an antique wooden rocking chair that looks like my grandmother’s, and bringing it home with me. I wanted to look for an antique coffee table that had leather or glass inlay, and I was going to bring it home with me. When we got to the antique sale, my husband and I walked around. He whispered in my ear that everything seemed to be antique except the price. When I saw the wooden rocking chair of my dreams, I had to check the price. Not only was the price not antique, but it was so far out of our league. I knew that if the coffee table and wooden rocking chair was going to be so expensive, there wasn’t going to be anything I could afford at the antique sale