This isn't a piece of furniture, but nonetheless comes from one of our favorite furniture shops, Orchard Hill, in Lambertville (where it would be possible to stage many imitation scenes from colonial times, even if all the tables and chairs and cabinets are in fact Indonesian imports). Our dining table and chairs and various mirrors and the wine cabinet and the strange kind of wooden ottoman that the TV sits on all come from there, as does the rather fine cabinet that will have to sit in their warehouse until we move back to Los Angeles (where, most disconcertingly, it is currently raining hard, turning the USC / Notre Dame game into a mudbath).
No, I do not need another bag, but as I've noted before, I can justify my greedy compulsions in this area by calling myself a collector. I think. And I'm sure it counts as clutter ... but since our realtor didn't call before bringing round punters today, and we were out, leaving as our avatars only such dubious attractions as drying underwear and an open trash can - I really can't bring myself to care about this too much.
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