Thursday, June 16, 2011

Garage Sale-ing

It's a verb. It's something I did with my pennies as a child and now I do it with my pennies as an adult. This is a strange phenomenon. Growing up in an affluent neighborhood I never expected to seek out "used" items for my future home, but this is the real world. And in the real world the economy is junky and everything is expensive. And in the real world I don't make anything close to the money I grew up with. And in the real world, it's not so bad to stop by a few garage sales to see the offerings.

Still, it's a strange phenomenon. I had to take the Mister with me to stop me from buying something in every garage. I overdose on generosity. Or maybe I'm just a sucker. In any case, I can't walk out of some little old white-haired lady's garage without buying something to make her feel good about her former belongings. Which is why the Mister has to come and help me realize that tarnished silver serving pieces will never be used in our home and a small Amish made table and chairs isn't a good fit for a home with no children. How do you just walk out? I view this as a huge insult - "you have no taste." I say "thank you" to everyone when we leave their garage. I don't know exactly what I am thanking them for, I guess for the opportunity to peruse their things, but I feel I must say it.

We did wind up with a beautiful mirror for our front hall, Christmas stockings that I adore (and that still have tags on them), a little pitcher perfect for the homemade grape juice we've been hoarding since last year, and a small cutting board with a sweet depiction of Holland, windmill in the distance and all. I spent $14.50. Thank you.

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