Welcome all :) It's a beautiful sunny day here on the far South Coast of N.S.W. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and it's school holidays in the Picket Fence household.
I had quite an exciting week, it all started with a little ad in the local paper. A garage sale ad with all the usual trimmings, household effects,white goods, antiques and collectibles . Now I love a garage sale :) it's no secret, but this ad had something heart stopping. Jammed in there in black and white newsprint were the words "antique church pew" Oh be still my beating heart.
I clipped out the ad from the paper, whacked it on the fridge and, with a grand flourish, ceremoniously announced that this was our collective goal for the week. The younger Picket Fencers rolled their eyes, Mr Picket Fence stared with the glazed face that could only be translated as "Here we go, my wife wants money" Baby Picket Fence clapped his hands, something big was happening :)
I pulled up and parked in my pre planned spot, leaped out of my car and smiled. I was early, really early and I was the first one there. Adrenaline and sunshine fuelled my optimism, I text-ed my beloved Mr Picket Fence "game on"
The sale was listed as starting at 8 am, and it was a recently sold house, the owner obviously didn't live there and the roller doors sat locked, silent waiting for the key holder to arrive and reveal the loot behind.
Stealthily cars rolled up and parked up and down the street, and like animals of prey, people in faded jeans and sweatshirts that had seen better days, sat slouched down behind their steering wheels, hats pulled low, surreptitiously looking for signs of an owner, listening for the creak of a roller door lifting, limbs twitching they waited to attack.
And then, in a heartbeat came the footsteps of a man with purpose, like a starting gun the jingling keys in his hand signalled a mass chorus of opening car doors. A surge of people, no longer talking pleasantries, rolled up to the opening doors.
Dealer's moved panther like, gliding effortlessly through, grabbing silver, clocks, antique tools, china while all the time looking ahead to the next row, planning their assault. Women shouldered each other out of the way and mothers shoved doughnuts in their children's mouths, ignoring their requests for grown out of bikes and twisted piles of PlayStation cords. This was front line stuff. This, my friends, was serious.
He turned briefly, grunted and said " I'm Sorry, it's gone, I sold it to a neighbour days ago" My face must have betrayed my broken heart, and shattered I could only utter a winded "oh". He countered "Love...she made me an offer I couldn't refuse" and then without further ado, off he walked.
I was mortified, I sent a sad face text to my husband and friends (who had spent a week listening about my plans for the said pew) and shuffled back to the car.
There were two other sales on that morning, I attended both, but it was tokenistic, I was wounded, I'd lost and I felt like the embodiment of sour grapes. I spent the day at home doing "housewifey" things, the Picket
Fence kids went out to play and Mr Picket Fence took himself to work, safely away from my thunderclouds.
With that the day ended, I didn't have my dreamt about church pew and the children ate dinner on normal chairs, I still had a little cash in my garage sale fund for the next "must have - to die for" garage sale item and in the middle of the table sat a faded chrysanthemum in a old cream bottle. Life was, as it should be, just so and lovely, and for now that is the way it's stayed.
With bells on
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