My parents, who downsized about a year and a half ago, are realizing that they didn't purge enough. Their little condo (which I'm pretty sure is still bigger than my house) is jam packed full. So, yesterday I became the proud new owner of this little 100 year old baby.
It was my great grandmother's sewing machine table, back before sewing machines were electric.
The truth is, I'm a little afraid to have it at my place. It's delicate and breakable. I'm not so delicate and have been known to do my fair share of damage. I'm a little torn about keeping it. I like having the family history, but I'm not so sure about responsibility.