|Somebody turned 10!|
I decided I want a credenza in my bedroom, because I have a big open space and nowhere to put down the electric tea kettle I just bought.
Our local small-town second-hand store had a lovely little piece, but I hemmed and hawed too long and someone else bought it.
No problem, said I. I'll just pop into the big thrift store in town and pick something out.
So on Saturday, I began the search. At each stopped I vaguely prayed, "God, please let me find it," while feeling vaguely foolish for praying for a first-world castoff credenza.
I started at the thrift store in the yuppy part of town. No luck.
I went to the huge thrift store in the lowly part of town, with the huge warehouse of a backroom that's silent and deserted and makes you wonder if you'll get assaulted and killed among the donated armoires.
I went to a building-supply thrift store, where if you're looking for something bizarre, you've come to the right place. Cut-up scraps of countertop in irregular shapes? Single cabinet drawer? Yes, please!
I went next door, to the regular-stuff thrift store. "God, please let me find it..."
I went to a place in the even lowlier part of town that came up on Google. As soon as I pulled in I had a new prayer. "God, please let me live. And maybe find a credenza." That place smelled overwhelmingly like cat pee. The man who greeted me (the one who was conscious.... the other one was taking a nap... I think) apologized for the darkness in the back of the store, but "we had a fire so I can't turn on the lights. Let me know if you need anything!"
I went clear across town to a discount retailer.
I went to Goodwill.
I went to the other discount retailer.
At this point or thereabouts I remembered why I hate shopping.
And why Amazon is well on its way to ruling the world.
And why I should never leave my house.
My not-local, non-thrifted, Amazon Prime credenza arrives on Monday. Until then, I'll keep my classy teapot on an ironing board.