I own a weird number of small side and end tables for three reasons:
1. When I was in college, my parents inexplicably developed a habit of buying me tables as presents (during my freshman year they brought one with them nearly every time they visited, perhaps fearing that a lack of surface areas upon which to rest my books would leave me vulnerable to things like not-studying and keg stands)
2. The Upper East Side, where Kendrick and I used to live, is a treasure trove of discarded furniture on weekend mornings, and we went through a phase where we frequently dragged pieces up to our apartment for a little rehab;
3. I like them. Maybe it's genetic.