Marble Isn’t All It’s Cracked Up To Be

Back in 2003, I bought a marble table from a friend. I’ve used it as my desk ever since. Last week, I packed up my laptop to take to Celebration and found this:

Good thing there are bars underneath or that could have ended differently—of course, then I’d have discovered it sooner, and it would’ve been an interesting story to tell my grandkids (I’m sure I have them in some alternate universe).

I mean really. How does one not know one’s desk has such a huge crack in it?

You know what this means, don’t you? Aslan was here. :firm nod:

Today when we got back, I pulled out a shelf I’d had sitting in the garage. My husband and I can’t agree on where it came from, but I’m glad it’s still there. (No need to call “Hoarders and The Men Who Love Them” just yet…)

So now I have a temporary solution until we have time to shop for a new desk.

(And you can see my little fur baby up on her perch.) Not bad, really; it gives me more height in front for all my story notes. 🙂

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