It's a horrible shame...
What started out twenty-three years ago as a passionate love affair has quietly disintegrated into tolerance and occasional loathing. I wish it wasn't so, but it can't be helped. You've changed too much, and not for the better.
I look at you just sitting there, oblivious to how repulsive you've become to me - a smear of oatmeal across your once immaculate face, now weary with age spots and ugly stains, layered scars from a lifetime of abuse. Even surrounded by loving family, though the memory of how you used to look - how you used to make me feel - remains, the reality leaves me cold. Sure, there are still glimpses of our former romance, but the dreams of beauty and perfection we once shared have worn away like old varnish, uncovering the sad truth -
YOU ARE A RICKETY, OLD TABLE!
(What? You thought I was talking about Husband? No way --- he's still a hunk!)
You were already an antique when I rescued you from obsolescence at a mouldering old resale furniture barn. The darkened, crackled varnish of your six ornately carved, lathe-turned legs offered stunning contrast to your gleaming polished tabletop surface. Six sturdy chairs - one an armed captain's! - with matching front spindle legs and classically jigged center backrests adorned you. And though your extra leaves were missing, your grooved apron skirt was pristine and gunk-free. You were a steal at $275, yet the dealer, anxious to be shed of you, threw in a matching buffet and stoneware service for eight.
I gobbled you up.
For three years you graced my little apartment. Whether dining alone or with soon-to-be-Husband, you were always there, supporting me. I prayed at one end of you and created at the other, decorating your center with seasonal offerings whose images mirrored in your glassy face.
But time and circumstance have changed you....
As much as I would love to upgrade, the Critters are adamant that they will always love you. And so, I suppose I should look for reasons to too....
Guess you're safe for now.....
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