Tallboy

(Roll your mouse over image to see inside [thanks little birds.])

The insides of fridges and closets. Now: bathroom cabinets.

I bought this tallboy last week at Haley’s, an auction house near work. I didn’t bid, but instead paid what the man asked for, which may or may not have been too much. I’m an easy mark: “Here’s our favourite customer today!” Mr. Haley calls out from behind the high desk where he sits in a fug of swirling cigarette smoke. It’s the third time I’ve been in the store this particular day: clearly, I want the tallboy. When he goes to make a phone call to check if the seller will accept my low-ball offer, I seriously wonder if there’s really anyone on the other end of the line. I pay my money, and miraculously, lying down, the tallboy fits into my small car.

I didn’t know it was called a tallboy until I stopped in at the salvage yard nearby and described it, inquiring as to how much it would cost to have it stripped. Almost as much as I paid, turns out. I’m a fan of all things tall and narrow. Books. Furniture. Men. We’ve had our bathroom stuff in plastic crates up until now, and the tallboy is almost exactly what I’d had in mind. Ideally, it’d have a screen door and enough space underneath for Henry’s litter box, but it’s really close.

So far, the cabinet’s in a mostly orderly state. My things, as usual, tend to proliferate and spill over into any available space, but for now, it’s Isaac on the top shelf and me below. Only one drawer has put into service as yet. Isaac likes to think he keeps it simple: shaver/shaving cream, deodorant, toothbrush, mouthwash, but he’s not quite the survivalist he’d lead you to believe. I could tell you a story about the time he ran into a male colleague in Kiehl’s, both of them toting shopping baskets, but I won’t. Let’s just say that the word metrosexual struck a chord when I first heard it.

I’m leaning toward stripping it myself. I’ll begin with the brass pulls while I mull it over some more. What do you think? Paint or strip?