OK, let's be honest. We live in squalor. At least a quarter of us are unclad at any given time (in case you are unduly worried, let me assure you this is the exclusive territory of the under-five-feet-tall faction). Food is hiding here and there about our house--old, dried out food. Our kitchen utensils are used to dig holes in the back yard and carry the dirt about. And our furniture can best be described as Early-to-Late Thrift Store.
I bring to wit one dining table, made of metal, plastic, and plasticky faux wood stuff:
Pay no attention to that large spot of something on the kitchen floor.
Plastic meets metal:
The chairs are even worse. Let's not talk about their comfort defects but just focus on the aesthetic flaws for the moment. The color. The faux-wood-plastic-backs. The bendy metal frames.
And since they are, I imagine, circa 1952, their mustard-yellow-and-yucky-green-seats are coming apart. Not to mention that there are only four of them (we're now down to three since one was destroyed by the natives a year or so ago) and six of us.
Let's just revisit the table and picture it with the yellow chairs.
Now, hold on to your hats. WE BOUGHT A NEW TABLE AND CHAIRS. MATCHING!!! SIX CHAIRS! NOTHING WOBBLES!
Before you get too excited, let me assure you that this one is also MDF covered with a faux-wood veneer, but it's at least a more lifelike veneer. And the chairs (all except one) are in good repair. And it's probably more like vintage 1970s instead of 1950s. So we're moving up in the world.