A city near the town where we live had a citywide garage sale.
I was under doctor’s orders to stay in bed and keep my upper body elevated. I was on huge doses of calcium and painkillers. I was also taking thyroid hormones and whatever else was in all those bottles on my bedside table. But wait, there was a citywide garage sale going on two towns over.
“Honey, could you take me on an errand?”
“Aren’t you supposed to stay in bed?”
“Well, sort of, but it’s really important.”
“What is it—a garage sale?”
O.K. that wasn’t funny. How did he know that?
My husband, God bless him, knows not to stand in my way when there is a citywide, no matter how many prescription drugs are flowing through my veins.
My plan was to just sit in the car and do drive bys of all the sales.
No getting out, just car window-shopping.
All I wanted was one good buy, just one and then I could go home and rest and all would be right with the world.
What do I shop for?
Anything garden, of course.
We rounded a corner onto Lincoln Avenue and something caught my eye, a little glint. My husband said, “Are those pots?”
And there in front of a little bungalow’s white picket fence were a row of brand new glazed flowerpots.
I felt a twinge of excitement. My husband pulled over and I got out of the car. The nice man at the garage sale told me that his friend had a wrecking yard and he had come into possession of a whole truck container that had been destroyed.
Part of the contents of the container was these glazed pots.
He was asking a dollar a piece. I suppose I could have bargained with him, but I think I paid about ten percent of what they were worth.
“Honey, I want all of them.”