It is, after all, just a table; an inanimate object that takes up a lot of space. Let’s face it, it’s something else around the house, like your kids and your bathroom sink, that needs to be cleaned, scoured, disinfected and wiped down on a regular basis.
There’s the name calling, the obnoxious drunk people falling down in the parking lot before the players even reach for their helmets, not to mention the large grease stains on your best blouse from the fried chicken, and the heartburn from all the pulled pork you inhaled off the back of a pick-up truck before kickoff . . .
"You're a sweetheart to the max. I love you like Crispy Critters."- Wesley Willis
People like to say down here in the South that if you can fry it, well . . . you can surely eat it. I don't know about that seeing as it was my brother who inherited my PaPa's .22, his deep fryer, and a shared affinity for wild, domestic and backyard game.
Life as an independent publisher has many rewards, but they're not always monetary. When both adults in a household toil in that noble field for a living, much of that household is likely to be held together with duct tape. The situation can be humbling, but it can also be an exhilarating test of your resourcefulness!