So, you know that we ordered a new table and chairs and consequently sold our old ones over a week ago.  Well, the new stuff came and when the guys set up the table, it was broken, so it had to be reordered.  

Now we have chairs, but no table.  Every time I pass this room, I feel like it is set up for a church-basement-type support group.  I kind of want to sit down and say something like "Hello, my name is Jill and I am a recovering Story Junkie." 

Except, that would be a lie.  I'm not recovering, nor do I have any intention of doing so.