Project Desk

I finally had the keys to my new apartment in Nashville. When moving from Birmingham, I decided not to bring my old furniture. I bought new furniture and had it delivered. Since I am alone in this new city, without my kiddos, I decided I can actually have new stuff. Trust me, you do not want new things with two young boys. They somehow manage to make a ballgame out of anything they can. Everything I've owned has been broken, glued or taped back together.

When your apartment is the size of a matchbox, you don't need much furniture. I bought a new bedroom suite, a small couch and chair, and a couple of bar stools. I was going for a somewhat rustic/vintage design. I still needed an end table for my living room. I discovered one that caught my eye on an online marketplace. I picked it up and was super pleased with how it looked. It was a vintage, wooden table that had been painted gray and then distressed.

I thought my apartment was complete, except that I had nowhere to do computer work. I sat on my couch and used a bar stool as a desk. It was uncomfortable because the bar stool was so much taller than the couch. So I tried sitting at the kitchen island to work, but that didn't work either. The bar stool was fine to sit on and eat, but not good for long periods because my feet would dangle and lose circulation.

I needed a small desk. I measured, and realized that I did have room for one. I looked online at every furniture store I could find and found nothing I liked. I needed something with a rustic or vintage vibe, that was small and affordable. Nothing matched my decor. Then I decided to look for an old desk and restore it to match my end table.

I found a small desk on marketplace and contacted the seller. I explained that I have a small car and needed to know if it would fit because I didn't have any other way to pick it up. He couldn't measure it at the time because it was in his storage unit, but he believed we could make it happen.

The following day, I went to meet the seller at his storage unit, about 25 miles south of the city. I was sure hoping the desk would fit in my car, since the drive was so far. The man was very nice and wiling to help me load it into the car. We measured it and measured my trunk, and decided it should fit as long as I laid my back seats down and pushed it through the trunk into the back seat. We were wrong.

We had not measured the height of the opening through the back seat. we couldn't get the desk all the way into the car in order to close the trunk. The seller suggested we tie down the trunk , but neither of us had any rope or bungee cords. We searched his storage unit and found a roll of electrical cord. We tied it down and away I went.

It was an embarrassing drive through Nashville. I had this dirty, old desk hanging out of my car and the trunk tied down with a roll of electrical cord. What's even worse, is that we had nothing to cut the cord with, so the entire roll was in my car connected to the trunk. I tried to drive slowly and not hit bumps to keep it from falling out, but the embarrassment was so bad that I didn't care if it did. If it would have come out, I was going to haul ass and pretend not to notice.

I made it to my apartment and parked in my usual spot in the garage. Then it hit me, how was I going to get this thing into my apartment by myself? The seller had helped me load it into my car, and it was pretty heavy. Maybe my apartment complex had some sort of cart I could use. Wrong again. They actually do but it was in the office and the office was closed. I was beginning to think that this DIY project was not worth all of this.

I had to use some creative thinking skills. I took a lid from a storage bin in my closet, pulled the desk from the car, and placed one end of the desk on the lid. I pulled it into the building, down the hall and into my apartment. A man would have come in handy with that task. I was a little tired from all of that, but I was excited to get started on this project.

I removed all of the hardware from the drawers and began to clean them up. I cleaned two of them and went for the third when my heart fell into my stomach and almost killed me. A black widow spider crawled out of one of the drawers. This spider had been there the entire time! It was there when we were loading it into my car. It was there, in my car on the ride home. It was there when I was pulling it into my apartment. It was there when I was removing the hardware from that same drawer.

That was it. This project was over. I had two options. One option was to move out and let the spider have my apartment. The other option was to kill it. I did not want to get near it and I had no spider spray. By the time I went to get some poison, the spider may escape into my apartment, and I'd not be able to stay there. I felt like I should torch it with a lighter and a can of hairspray, but i knew the outcome would be bad. I never needed a man in my life as much as I did at that very moment.

Well, there was not anyone around so I had to "man" up. I grabbed a shoe and I beat the hell out of that spider and the drawer. That was going to require some extra paint. The spider was dead but I was uneasy. I decided to go to the hardware store for paint supplies and spider spray. I couldn't help but fear the possibility of more spiders in that desk or in that car.

I drenched the desk and drawers with spider spray, cleaned them up and began painting. I had chosen a gray color. It seemed lighter than I wanted but the guy at the hardware store said it would dry darker. I painted the entire desk but it just wasn't what I wanted. I went back to the store to get darker paint. It was perfect. I painted the desk and while it was drying, I searched online for the perfect wooden chair, so I could paint it to match.

I found a wooden chair on marketplace. It was old, scratched up and a turquoise color, but I was going to paint it anyway. I met up with the seller and she handed me a child's chair. I thought it was a joke but the look on her face when I laughed meant she wasn't joking. I was already there and it was only a few dollars so I bought it. I decided to use it on my balcony as a plant stand. So I still needed a chair for the desk.

I found another wooden chair on marketplace. This time I messaged the seller and asked it this was an adult size chair and she confirmed that it was. I went to meet her at her apartment. The apartments were gated so she said to text her when I pulled into the leasing office and she would bring it to me.

Moments later, I see a very petite, young women, struggling across the parking lot with this wooden chair that was as big as she was. once she approached, I could see that this chair was a bar high chair. As she stood there exhausted from carrying this chair, I didn't have the heart to tell her I didn't want it. I loaded it into the car and took it home. I figured I could do something with it. I painted it to match the desk and end table, and thought I could keep it at the island as a third seat when I have guests, but the shade of gray clashed with the gray bar stools. Instead, I just stuck it in a corner and threw a blanket over it. But I still needed a desk chair.

I searched again on marketplace and found another old wooden chair. This time I verified the exact size before agreeing to purchase. I picked it up and brought it home. After painting and distressing it, the desk and chair looked perfect. I was completely pleased with my project. One desk, three chairs, a ghetto car ride, several trips to the hardware store and a spider later, the DIY project was done and momma could get some rest. I guess I proved that I am a strong, independent woman, although, I would have graciously accepted a man's help.