If at first you don't succeed, pretend Plan B C was what you intended from the beginning

Still no photos, so you'll have to use your imaginations.  The good news is that my quilt swap partner doesn't have to close her eyes, since she can't see the quilt anyway.  Even accidentally.
Speaking of the swap quilt, I got it basted this afternoon.  I finished the top over the weekend, then let it marinate for a couple of days to make sure I liked it, since the path to final assembly had been fraught with peril.  And cursing.  There was definite cursing. 
There was a problem with the inner border that I showed last week, in that the fabric I had planned to use was an inch shorter than the center part of the top (the part the border would be bordering, in other words), which I didn't notice until I had my rotary cutter in hand and was ready to go.  And for reasons unknown, I decided that I didn't want to just piece the border, probably because that would have been too easy.  Oh, no.  I came up with a really clever thing that I thought would be perfect, made up four border strips with the snazzy idea, and sewed one on.
And hated it.  And not just any ordinary hate - the flaming hate of a thousand white-hot suns.  I hated it so much that I set it down, went up the hill home, and still hated it even when it wasn't even in the same room with me, hate it hate it hate it.  I hated it all through supper, hated it till bedtime, hated it when I woke up in the morning.  Hated it as I was headed down to The Flat.
I was reaching for the seam ripper the minute I walked through the door, before I even dropped my keys in my pocket.  A quick ziiiiiiick!  And no more dreaded terrible horrible awful hated hated hated border.  Whew!
Now of course, the next attempt would have gone a lot smoother if I had measured correctly before cutting all four borders.  Because, you know.  Fit and everything.  But, hey.
And then, finally, while I was cutting the borders again (and starting to feel slightly worried about running out of that particular fabric), a light bulb went off in my head and I realized what I should have been doing from the beginning, and did it.  And it was perfect.
Ya know, Right Brain and Left Brain were both suspiciously quiet through this whole ordeal.  Probably off somewhere sulking after the last time.  Borders.  Yep.

So anyway, I decided I loved it in its final state, and I got it basted this afternoon.  I don't particularly enjoy basting, but that's probably my own fault since I have a tendency to overbaste.  Like I'm worried about the basting having to survive a cattle stampede.  Or an alien invasion.  That kind of overbaste. 
As I was crawling around on the floor with backing, batting, and top, cursing my aching knees and back, overdoing the basting, I found myself wishing that there was an easier way to do this.  Something that could raise the work up off the floor.  Maybe a piece of furniture.  That would be a wonderful thing.  I could invent something that would do just that, and make a fortune.
I'm thinking of calling it a 'table'.   What do you think?