When it's not on the river mine does double duty as an end table next to the Hepplewhite love seat. It's about the perfect height and you can move it to the middle of the living room as a second coffee table when the book club meets. Usually I've got the Wedgewood compote and the cut-glass pickle dish on it.
'Knew a guy once that came back from the Grand with a trip's worth of shit in a bunch of ammo cans. He was an PNW boater who'd moved to Colorado and was accustomed to scat machines at all the take-outs. Of course, the scat machine at Pearce had been broken and he'd just driven back with them all with no place to empty them between Flag and Denver. About 6 months later I stopped by, and there they were, full and fermenting in his driveway.
Then there's the classic story about someone that had a full groover box stolen out of the back of their truck - talk about karma (and other things) ripening when the thieves opened that baby up...
Nothing in the world is more yielding and gentle than water. Yet it has no equal for conquering the resistant and tough. The flexible can overcome the unbending; the soft can overcome the hard. - Lao Tse