Jeweler's bench!
Growing up I spent many an hour standing by my grandfather at his jeweler's bench.
He would show me how he cut gemstones and repaired watches.
Of course his bench was much older than this one. And larger with a glass surround.
BUT look at those drawers and envision what you could hide, er, store in them.
This baby weighs a ton.
I had to take the drawers out to unload it.
Chucks promptly said it was not coming in the house.
I will explain why I agreed at the end of this post.
There were some hidden treasures - pliers and jump rings, but no jewels.
I was hoping to find a diamond or two stuck in the back.
I did not.
I was hoping Chucks would change his mind.
He did not.
So back into the truck and off to Riverfront Antique Mall it went.
It garnered several admiring glances as it rode in on a dolly.
The drawers have tape labels on them for batteries, mother's rings, and chains.
I was hoping to paint it white and turquoise and heavily distressed it.
I will not do that.
I was hoping that after eight weeks of physical therapy I would have pulled loose enough scar tissue in my shoulder to avoid a shoulder manipulation.
I did not.
I was hoping the cyst on my middle left finger would not grow any larger.
But it did. I now have trigger finger.
So next week I have to go have my shoulder jerked until the scar tissue comes loose and have the cyst removed from the trigger finger at the same time. If I am going to hurt, I might as well hurt all at once. With a shoulder manipulation, time you can say your name in the recovery room, they send you straight to physical therapy. For eight more weeks!
Thus my easy capitulation to Chucks about not keeping the jeweler's bench. I will not be able to lug furniture around except with my right arm for a few weeks.
Whine, whine, whine.
Where's the cheese?
See y'all!
Party Junk 196
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