A long stupid time ago, I posted a blog which I dubbed The Table Fiasco. In it, I told the riveting tale of my complete failure to purchase a kitchen table. I ended that blog on a positive note, but in truth the Table Fiasco has gone on for some time and Bry and I have nearly given up hope that we would ever be able to eat our meals like God intended.
Our more recent attempt to hire a carpenter to build us a table from scratch seemed ideal at first, but we soon discovered that they had accidentally given us a price much too reasonable. Disappointed but not willing to spend a small fortune, we returned home to continue eating on our couch.
After that, we found another furniture shop with the perfect table inside. Unfortunately, the shop was “closed for maintenance” and, judging by the thick layer of dust covering everything, would remain so for the foreseeable future. Our breath fogged up the glass which stood between us and our dusty dream.
After so much heartbreak, you won’t be surprised that, when Bry found a local furniture shop, I was skeptical. I suppose a heart can only be broken so many times before it becomes calloused. Despite my apprehensions, the place seemed legitimate enough, and the man inside claimed that we could pick the wood for our new table and chairs, which would then be built and delivered to our house. We crossed our fingers.
Two weeks later, I got a phone call that the table was finished and would be delivered at 6pm. We knew this meant roughly 8 or 9pm Egyptian time, so at 9pm we periodically glanced up from our homework at the door in anxious anticipation. But, 10, 11, and then midnight rolled by with no table. At 1am, the doorbell finally rang, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was dark brown, it was sturdy, it was a table. And it came with six perfect little chairs. I was so delirious with delight I almost didn’t notice the catch: none of the chairs had seats. There was no place on which to place our rumps, just a gaping hole. The delivery men responded to my exacerbated questions with a promise: we’ll be back tomorrow at 6pm with the seats for the chairs, no problem, no problem at all.
I suppose that the ironic part is that, after all this, I totally believed them. So 2 days passed, and there were still no seats in our chairs. There was literally a table and six chairs in our house, and for all practical purposes, we were still without a table.
Well played Egypt, well played.