The Absolute Bane of My Existence

This table.

This mother@*%$er of a table causes me more stress and pissed off moments than it's worth. For the life of me, I can not keep it clean. It's like some sort of weird vortex that sucks up every miscellaneous piece of junk lying around our house, and displays it in this explosion of garbage.

I've actually given up trying to clean it up before we have company now (unless they're staying for dinner), because everyone who knows me, also knows about the issues I have with this table. No sense trying to hide it, they all know I would have just cleaned it off for them anyways, so who cares?

It's been clean a total of about 10 times since we got it a few months after we got married. That was over 7 years ago. Appalling, isn't it?

Usually when we have friends over for dinner I'll do a mad house cleaning, then when I get to the table I just take everything off, pile it in a laundry basket or bin, transfer the bin into the bedroom or laundry room, wipe the table down with a cloth and ta da! Good as new, and it looks great!

The problem with that, is that I never ever get back to all the stuff I cleared off the table in the first place, so it becomes a problem elsewhere in the house. Plus, usually by the next morning the table is mysteriously sporting a newspaper, a water glass, some loose change, a jacket over one of the chairs, a cell phone bill, a hydro bill, some random piece of clothing...it's very peculiar.

So I know, you're all thinking "Ali! If you hate it so much, and you obviously don't eat off it, then why the hell don't you just ignore the stupid thing, and let it be messy if it wants to?"

My answer to that, is this:Yeah, see her? Well in a few weeks time, that little monster is going to be sitting in her brand new highchair, trying her first bite of infant cereal. And then will come the veggies, and the fruits, and all the rest, which means that the husband and I are going to have to be sitting at that table with her. I just can't justify starting my kid off eating in front of the tv (which is where the husband and I usually eat now). Because then, you know, in 12 years or so she'll be this chubby little nightmare, and we'll be on Maury, and she'll be this out of control, obese hellion, who is yelling at me "I don't have to listen to you bitch, you're not the boss of me!" and we'll end up sending her to boot camp...and you know, I just don't want to be the cause of that just because I let her sit in front of the tv to eat.

You know?

I'm thinking of just setting the table and everything that's on it on fire, then buying a new, smaller one, so there is less space to pile crap on, thus making it easier to keep it clean...