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lity.”? Is T\the vacant space where my solid Acacia dining room table should be is reflective of the void in my heart that one of you bipedal monkeys should occupy? It’s hard to say.</p><h1 id="a9e8">“Alexa, please set the timer for four minutes and thirty seconds.”</h1><p id="cd28">“Timer set for four minutes thirty seconds starting now.”</p><p id="6168">I’m baking cookies to distract myself from the emptiness. The cookies will fill a place in my stomach making me fatter, which in turn will make it more unlikely that I will attract a lover in this Hollywood world.</p><p id="6858">Am I creating that too? Perhaps I am destined to have a fat partner. Shall I blame my society, my culture and my upbringing for that as well? Yes, perhaps, I shall. I’m good at blaming others.</p><h1 id="516f">Is there a physical table here?</h1><p id="a110">No. Do I own a table? Unknown. That is best left up to the interpretation of an external observer, i.e., a bipedal mammalian creature such as yourself.</p><p id="df43">Is there some medication that can be prescribed to make me see the table too? What a horrifically low new standard of self-denial must I achieve to appease those who create our reality? Who are <i>they</i>? And what have they done with my table?</p><p id="61ac">They all already have their own dining room tables, much bigger and more extravagant and elegant than my modest 1–2-person seater. Why do they need my table too?</p><h1 id="4c85">It’s been over a week since I wrote the above.</h1><p id="90e7">I received a refund from PayPal, no fanfare or notification of any kind. Which is fine, considering I got reimbursed. So now I can assume that I am still sane, which is actually disturbing. If it’s not me, it must be. No, I can’t. I can’t keep blaming other

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s for my issues.</p><p id="01ea">I ordered a table from Macy’s last week. It was supposed to have arrived yesterday. I thought Macy’s had an impeccable reputation and wouldn’t try to abscond with my dining room table like those Australian scoundrels at Etsy. Heck, Macy’s put it on sale, did they change their minds?</p><h1 id="823a">It was only $70 with free shipping, in theory anyway.</h1><p id="19ac">I’ve been trying to understand the subconscious spiritual significance that dining room tables must hold for me. Thus far, I’m clueless. But it must be <i>something</i>. There must be some key, some insight I’m supposed to make about myself to receive a dining room table.</p><p id="55e9">I don’t think it’s the forces of evil at work in my life. I mean, why attack my ability to obtain a table for my dining room? It just doesn’t resonate with evil intentions to me. Perhaps I’m not the only one whose life events make it seem as though society is falling apart at the seams. Maybe if they reported that on the news, we could all breathe a sigh of collective relief and solidarity. But, like Etsy, PayPal, or Macy’s, the news doesn’t seem to care much about us either.</p><h1 id="8d7a">I have convinced myself that there is a karmic connection between me and dining room tables.</h1><p id="47db">Perhaps if I do some serious soul-searching, I will unveil that mystery and a dining room table will finally arrive, appearing on my front porch for me to assemble.</p><p id="972f">Does anyone else remember when furniture came pre-assembled or was that just a dream?</p><p id="a358">Pray for me. Or not. It’s up to you, and it’s really not that important. I have a TV tray. I can keep eating in front of the TV. Exactly where <i>they </i>seem to want me.</p></article></body>

My New Dining Room Table

6 weeks after moving in, the table mystery still haunts my mind.

Here’s a picture of my new dining room table.

I bought it off Etsy from a vendor in Australia. I’m in the USA, btw. Do you like it? I had to wait over a month for it to get here, so I stopped waiting and started believing that it must be here already.

How much do you think it costs? Would you believe that, including shipping, it only cost me $75? I know! Quite a bargain. A real steal.

Yes, it’s solid wood.

The lowest price that I’ve seen for a table like it is around $1,000. That’s why I just had to grab it off of Etsy before anyone else did. It’s a shame that the company that manufactured it went out of business just after I purchased it. I believe they went out of business selling $1,000 dining room tables for $50 plus $25 shipping, but who am I to judge?

I’ve tried contacting PayPal as Etsy recommended to get my money back, but their phone is always busy, and they don’t respond to my emails. So, again, it behooves my state of mind to simply believe that the table is here. Either that or believe that I have already been reimbursed for the cost.

Just maybe perhaps I am the only one who can’t see it.

Hence my reasoning behind making this post. I hope you understand my logic. My external environment is reflecting my internal environment. I suppose that’s not news to anyone. Is that what they mean by “we create our own reality.”? Is T\the vacant space where my solid Acacia dining room table should be is reflective of the void in my heart that one of you bipedal monkeys should occupy? It’s hard to say.

“Alexa, please set the timer for four minutes and thirty seconds.”

“Timer set for four minutes thirty seconds starting now.”

I’m baking cookies to distract myself from the emptiness. The cookies will fill a place in my stomach making me fatter, which in turn will make it more unlikely that I will attract a lover in this Hollywood world.

Am I creating that too? Perhaps I am destined to have a fat partner. Shall I blame my society, my culture and my upbringing for that as well? Yes, perhaps, I shall. I’m good at blaming others.

Is there a physical table here?

No. Do I own a table? Unknown. That is best left up to the interpretation of an external observer, i.e., a bipedal mammalian creature such as yourself.

Is there some medication that can be prescribed to make me see the table too? What a horrifically low new standard of self-denial must I achieve to appease those who create our reality? Who are they? And what have they done with my table?

They all already have their own dining room tables, much bigger and more extravagant and elegant than my modest 1–2-person seater. Why do they need my table too?

It’s been over a week since I wrote the above.

I received a refund from PayPal, no fanfare or notification of any kind. Which is fine, considering I got reimbursed. So now I can assume that I am still sane, which is actually disturbing. If it’s not me, it must be. No, I can’t. I can’t keep blaming others for my issues.

I ordered a table from Macy’s last week. It was supposed to have arrived yesterday. I thought Macy’s had an impeccable reputation and wouldn’t try to abscond with my dining room table like those Australian scoundrels at Etsy. Heck, Macy’s put it on sale, did they change their minds?

It was only $70 with free shipping, in theory anyway.

I’ve been trying to understand the subconscious spiritual significance that dining room tables must hold for me. Thus far, I’m clueless. But it must be something. There must be some key, some insight I’m supposed to make about myself to receive a dining room table.

I don’t think it’s the forces of evil at work in my life. I mean, why attack my ability to obtain a table for my dining room? It just doesn’t resonate with evil intentions to me. Perhaps I’m not the only one whose life events make it seem as though society is falling apart at the seams. Maybe if they reported that on the news, we could all breathe a sigh of collective relief and solidarity. But, like Etsy, PayPal, or Macy’s, the news doesn’t seem to care much about us either.

I have convinced myself that there is a karmic connection between me and dining room tables.

Perhaps if I do some serious soul-searching, I will unveil that mystery and a dining room table will finally arrive, appearing on my front porch for me to assemble.

Does anyone else remember when furniture came pre-assembled or was that just a dream?

Pray for me. Or not. It’s up to you, and it’s really not that important. I have a TV tray. I can keep eating in front of the TV. Exactly where they seem to want me.