I’m kicking myself for not taking a picture of my friend Linda this morning. I was so surprised to see her out garaging that grabbing my camera didn’t cross my mind. I would have entitled it “Portrait of a Dedicated Thrifter” and made sure the cast on her foot was in sharp focus. Yes, she broke her foot a couple of weeks ago; yes, it still hurts; and yes, she was out driving around looking for yard sales this morning. I sure hope she had better luck than I did – though I did find one thing I especially need. And I found it because of Linda’s broken foot!
It’s not that there weren’t a number of sales this week, but their wares were either total crap (sorry to be so blunt, but it’s true) or ridiculously priced, or both. I mean, come on – you think you’re going to get $5 for a cookbook no one has ever heard of? That was at the sale where the kind of unsure-of-himself boy was helping his mom, with a copy of The Out of Synch Child prominently displayed for sale. (And overpriced.) Hmmm, wonder if there’s any market for one entitled The Insensitive Parent…
But it’s a beautiful morning, about 70 degrees and a little breeze blowing (I know, please don’t hate me) so I kept going. The one thing I really hoped to find was a couple of pet carriers, for when we move the cats up to Oregon. The ones we take them to the vet in are quite small (but easy to get them in and out of) so they each need something a little bigger that will still fit in the car. So I looked and looked and never saw any.
Finally came to three houses in a row having sales. The lady at the middle house was sporting a very familiar looking cast on her foot. “You have an owie,” I said, and she agreed. I told her about Linda’s foot that she managed to break by stepping off a 2 inch high curb. This lady may actually have Linda beat – she doesn’t know how she broke hers! “The only thing I could think of,” she said, “was that I dug a hole to plant a tomato, and the next day my foot started to hurt. I bet my doctor imagines I’m some kind of falling down drunk having blackouts or something.” We agreed it’s pretty scary to be able to break a bone and not know it, and chatted a few minutes. Then I headed off for the next house, but for some reason as I started to move I said something about looking for pet carriers and not finding any. “I may have one,” she said. “Go check their sale while I look in the garage.”
So I did (another sale of overpriced crap) and she did, and she dug out one of those soft sided carriers. We agreed on a price, and I learned that it had been her cat Rebel’s, who died at the age of 15 from kidney failure a few months ago. “That’s what my Mrs. Wilberforce is dealing with,” I said, and mentioned having to drip fluids into her every day – which is exactly what she had done with Rebel. So we had a good old talk about that, and it was really quite encouraging. Rebel lasted for 4 years on the drip regime, and she said it really got to be no big deal for either of them. Mrs. W and I are glad to hear that, both that it really extended his life, and that you get used to the routine. And we feel like Rebel has passed along his travel case to Mrs. Wilberforce. I know there are some good vibes in there.