I fell for a spectacle.

No, I'm not talking about The Gates. I went, I took pictures, and I have stuff to say about that. However, not yet. First, lemme talk about yesterday.

Each of my evening plans had fallen apart. Each contingency went to crap. Then I remembered that this isn't a Rocky Friday for Tesseracte and called the honorable tkitch. He was busy waiting for a friend of ours to get ready to go out. He was in Salem. He said "go home, I'll call you in an hour." I didn't feel like going home, so I took some shortcuts around Lexington to avoid a car crash and got on route 128 at Middlesex Pike.

I was figuring I'd go to CompUSA and stare at stuff I didn't need. It's a noble activity to be sure. Instead I saw the giant Jordan's IMAX Vortex of Furniture in Reading and said "gah! I'm a moth, let's hit that light." I had missed the exit, so took the next one (the rotary over by the RMV) and headed back.

If you're not from New England, you'll have no idea what Jordan's is. Think Ikea for real furniture made of real wood. This is a giant store on a hillside overlooking the expressway. Its glass front and rotating billboards call to you like a 1950s chrome car grill, its smile of shininess seeing the unfurnished house of your soul. Jordan's is a New England institution, built on odd advertising schemes with the two founders (no longer the owners -- Warren Buffett bought the chain five years ago) playing odd roles. For example, they had a parody of the Blue Man Group ads that cost about as much as the original ad.

I walked in and got freaked by the spectacle. I saw the Trapeze School, a full circus trapeze setup where victims can learn how to do Walenda-Jr tricks in safety. Yes, there is enough room in this joint for a full trapeze to be in the corner. There is also the Beantown jelly bean store (ask penghuin about getting that set up).

I walked around the dining table sets and couldn't believe how much they cost. I kept thinking "it's just wood! I know where this stuff comes from. This isn't thirteen c-notes worth of it." There were rooms and rooms of tables unfolding. When I came to the glass tables, I liked the chairs but the tables didn't suit me. I was hung up on the tables because I kept thinking about the dining table Maggie and I had borrowed from her dad. I loved that table. It was such a warm and calling pack animal, holding all of my projects and the occasional meal.

Then I saw a salesman demo a table with built-in folding leaves. I loved the technology of it but I knew I'd ruin a table like that. I use the dining table as a waist-level vortex of construction. I wanted a nice table, I realized. I wanted something that wouldn't wince at my use of it.

Then I saw the marble-topped dining table with the black legs. I knew it right away -- here was a table that would be resilient. I was also impressed that it was so cheap compared to anything else I'd seen. Then I asked the salesman why it was so cheap. He said "cuz we have a warehouse in Taunton with a million square feet and about 20 of these in there."

I liked this guy immediately. He was getting a sale. He mentioned that I could delay delivery and put down 20% now. I said "let's do it." I must've been his easiest sale of the day.

We talked, we laughed, we filled out a screen that confused him. I've delayed the delivery until late March, although I may expedite now that a couple checks have come in and I have a time-based reason to clean up the apartment.

Then I called Kitch again. Our friend needed another hour. Ah, dressing up for Man Ray can take forever. That reminds me that I'll need to stop by her work place tomorrow and drop off her skirt.