The table sits in our basement, shoved to a corner, covered in a layer of dust and dampness. Its sole purpose is to hold those cardboard boxes we can't afford to get wet should the sump pump malfunction. But in its heyday, it served as kitchen table in our first home in Somerville, New Jersey. With one leaf collapsed and pushed to the wall, it fit beautifully as a semi-circle, allowing three chairs to fit underneath without blocking traffic to and from the kitchen.
That table followed us to our current home where we could allow it to breathe and operate in its intended circular shape. Our family of four enjoyed many a breakfast, lunch and dinner at that table. Easter eggs were dyed there. Homework was completed there. The table took a beating. Math equations, spelling words and grocery lists remained etched in the soft, imitation wood from forceful pencil or pen on paper.
And then one day we'd had enough. A larger and more sturdy table took its place. We'd earned the right to upgrade after so many years. To the basement it went, never to be seen again.
Last week we reminisced about that old table. And disagreed on who sat where. The only means to prove I was correct; locate an old photo and shove the proof in their collective faces.
Turns out, not one photo of all of us at that table exists. We apparently never deemed it important or worthy enough of a pic.
Well that will now change.
I will spend the next 365 days capturing one "boring" photo a day with a short write-up to follow. I'm not doing this to entertain you or deliver some sort of life message. The photo quality will be spotty at best. It's a purely selfish endeavor. I'm documenting so I won't forget. If you find it the least bit entertaining, all the better.
For Day One (I intentionally didn't start on January 1st cause I'm non-conforming like that), I give you this.
It's the dog's leash. Rolled up on the stairs. It's significance:
I take great care to roll it up tight and uniformly. Every. Single. Time. That's called OCD.
It must be on the sixth stair from the bottom which is just about at my eye level.
If it is in that state of coil, I know I took her outside last. That's called good dog bathroom management.
See you tomorrow.