junk

Ah, here I sit tired to the bone. I have had the lovely and quite dirty opportunity to liquidate a family member's estate. Now you may read this and think yuck, who wants to do that? Well I'll tell you, ME! Nothing makes me happier than when I am surrounded by old and dusty junk. Chests of drawers, 1950's dinettes, vintage rattan with perfect cushions(do you know how hard it is to find perfect cushions?), lamps, bubble lights, barkcloth, sparkly jewelry and bright colored flower pins, aaahhh, I am like a pig in poop, happy. In a world where we are all trying to be bigger, better, faster, newer, I find comfort in all things old. Tarnished silver is prettier to me than bright and shiny, polished silver. Old floral quilts worn thin from washing are more appealing than new starchy polyester ones. Layer them all for perfect coziness. Old big bulb christmas lights have the best glow during snowy holiday time. My favorite is when they are blanketed in a fresh fall, peeking out from their chilly cover. Now I'm sure I have painted this romantic picture of what I do for work, but that's just it, it IS work, hard, laborsome , dirty work that I love to my core. My life is like one big treasure hunt, picking through garbage, crawling through, well crawl spaces, climbing rickety attic steps and bumping my head for the millionth time. Small spaces that smell like rodents, swiping cobwebs from my lips, trudging through mud, all a part of the job. I've also been known to drive crazy distances to meet up with just as crazy people all for the love of junk. My friend is the same way and together drinking margaritas, buying old crap, we are never happier. One occasion left us locked out of the truck in the cold while she went to find help and came back wrapped in a stinky victorian quilt with some very eccentric stranger(owner of the crazy quilt)in tow, happy to try to sell her the quilt. Um, no thanks, but have a corona. I'm not exactly sure what we purchased in the dark with our flashlights(due to the margaritas)but I do know it was awhile before we stopped laughing. Oh yes, what a life. I suppose as stated before, I could work in a cubicle or for some horrible boss, but that is just not my speed. I swear sometimes people think I don't work because my job is so fun, but hauling, cleaning, displaying, pricing, and selling is just as much work if not more than say putting numbers on a spreadsheet. My husband also enjoys the vibe, most of the time. Like I said before the labor part can grow old. Some days we cannot lift another piece of furniture(like today)yet I know he will happily join his wife for the flea market extravaganza come spring. Junk in the country, nothing better. For now I will busy myself by getting reaquainted with my boxed up finds and try to figure out exactly what that goo is on my rain boot. Good night world.