UES Garbage Pickin'

It happened on a Friday night, a few weeks ago. I had a lot on my mind and approximately 15,000 things to do. I was getting home late from work and hadn’t yet packed a thing for a flight out of Laguardia early the next morning. I was making a mental checklist of all I needed to remember, when suddenly I stopped in my tracks. In front of me was the most beautiful piece of garbage I’d ever seen.

Basically, it was the desk of my dreams – someone had put it out on the street for the next day’s collection. Right here on the Upper East Side, this piece of abandoned furniture beckoned to me, it glowed with possibility. I’m pretty sure I heard angels sing.

It was long and lean, white-ish, and had eight drawers just begging to be filled with my sundry office supplies. My current desk was adequate yet drawer-less. I calculated that, strangely enough, I hadn’t had a desk with drawers since we sold off my girlhood furniture at age 14. I ran my hand across the top surface, which measured approximately a mile. Oh, the masterpieces I could write on this thing.

I am not new to garbage pickin’. Some of my most valued treasures have been acquired in this manner: a love seat from the 50’s, a Jetson-esque orange chair, and a funky, discarded kitchen cabinet that has long served as my (not-so-functional) desk storage. If you've never claimed anything off the street as your own and you're reading this with a bit of disgust, I assure that everything (other than say mattresses and couches) can be cleaned thoroughly. Besides, I guarantee that that this form of recession-era "shopping" will give you a satisfying rush. You know what they say about one man’s trash…

I find that, like so many things in life, the best garbage pickin’ happens when you least expect it. Maybe there are some true aficionados out there who troll around on Friday nights from city block to city block in order to score the perfect pickin’s but I think it’s a matter of just going about your life, keeping your eyes open, then being decisive. It’s like apartment hunting: if you don’t act quickly, someone else will definitely snap up the one you’re pretty sure you want.

This time, however, I hesitated. I could tell this was narrow enough for my space but was it too long? Was it too low to the ground to be ergonomic? Was it too yellowed? Had a dog relieved himself on it yet? In fact, upon closer inspection, I discovered that this glorious piece was not a desk at all but actually a vanity. The compartment in the middle flipped up to reveal an undersurface that used to house a mirror and a bunch of secret compartments, one of which, sure enough, contained an old tube of lipstick. There was also a great pair of 1970’s sunglasses in one of the drawers.

The main question was: how was I going to get this up to my 5th floor walk-up? I’m no carpenter, but it seemed like it would detach into three pieces. I immediately dialed my fiancé and told him that I’d stumbled upon a dreamy piece of garbage. “Really?” he replied, amused and possibly a little afraid. I proceeded to describe its attributes with an excitement that, he would later recount, rendered me pretty much unintelligible.

I knew I needed some brawn. The problem was that my brawn was in a gnarly line at a Fed Ex. He told me he’d be over as soon as possible. In the meantime, I decided to stand sentry, to guard my new/old desk/vanity so that no one else could even think about claiming it.

I admit that as we waited, and waited…and waited for that Fed Ex line to dissipate, doubt set in. The desk gradually began to seem fairly beat-up and far too big. Mainly, getting it upstairs started to seem like way too much of a hassle amid everything we had to do that night. I do love free stuff, but also fundamentally believe that “less is more” and it would be easier to just walk away. Besides, despite all the soldier-like marching I was doing back in forth in front of it, I was getting cold. I decided it was all just a little much. Wistfully, I headed upstairs, rustled up some dinner, and dug out my suitcase.

When my fiancé finally arrived an hour later, he was also excited. “That desk is great,” he said, and suggested we go back down to investigate further. I was surprised that it was still there. We proceeded to examine it from every angle, and carried one of the drawers into my foyer to see what the color looked like in normal light. It was somewhat discolored, but it did seem like a lot of that would scrub away and what didn’t would add charm.

“Do you think it will be comfortable for you?” he asked. I pretended to sit and type at my laptop, perching on thin air, almost falling in the process. “Let’s go get your desk chair,” he said. Of course. I nodded my head and took off while he stood sentry. I bounded up the stairs with renewed energy, pleased to know such a genius and vowing to grab my camera for documentation purposes. Back on the sidewalk, I couldn’t stop laughing. I sidled up to the desk and once again pretended to type, this time with good posture, full of intention. That’s the first time I ever pretend-typed at a desk on the sidewalk.

“Perfect,” I said. We then dismantled it and determined that it wouldn’t be too hard to carry upstairs. First, we made sure to take in my desk chair, so that no one dared to claim that as her own. Then we took out the drawers. Granted, this 3-piece desk/vanity wasn’t too heavy, but traipsing it up five floors wasn’t exactly a stroll in the park, either; I find that even small objects, like pencils or even feathers, can seem heavy when you have to climb beyond that third floor.

It was by then 10:30 pm. Because we still had to pack and address those 14,999 other pre-trip tasks, we couldn’t do much else with the desk besides pile it up on top of itself and take turns modeling those crazy sunglasses.

In the last few weeks, I have engaged in four rounds of vigorous scrubbing. I used those Magic Eraser sponges that are so aptly named. If you haven’t tried these yet, I highly recommend. They are a product of that trusty, bald-headed Mr. Clean. I got mine in the cleaning section of Rainbow Hardware and Pharmacy, downstairs, on First between 75th and 76th. Thanks to these sponges, my desk/vanity brightened up considerably. I have been busy filling up every drawer and every nook and cranny with my beloved office supplies. And, of course, I am happily typing on it, at this very moment. It feels like the dawn of a new era. I suspect that many masterpieces will be composed in this exact spot in the months, years, and maybe even decades to come.

That following Friday, I put my other desk (which I've been writing at for the last 22 years) out for collection. Guess what? It vanished within the hour. Right now, perhaps someone else nearby is also typing a blog about the great new desk she found on the sidewalk...