My sister is the master of garage sales and I refuse to go to a sale without her. I can walk through a sale and see nothing, nothing and more nothing. I go home and start muttering things. Not good things. “I wasted my gas for this! Does everybody buy from the same stores? Are all the vintage items stored away in collections?” But when my sis is along the world is our shopping mall. She sees the shelves I’ve been wanting in the back corner under a furnace, the comforter that is just perfect for padding my couch cushion in a box covered by Happy Meal toys and that vintage kitchen utensil with the red handle hiding in a carton of plastic lids. I don’t pretend to understand it. She’s a genius and I float behind in her tailwind gathering the good finds.
It was hot today and getting hotter, but we found some cool deals. Our first sale was so much fun that we didn’t need to go anywhere else. Of course we did go elsewhere but that urge for the hunt had been satisfied and anything else we found would be gravy.
Chicago is the nearest city with an Ikea and I have despaired of ever getting there. Two and a half hours is not really that long to spend in a car, but the thought of traffic and the cost of gas have kept me rooted in this small town. Anyway I found some items from Ikea at a sale today. I don’t know what they are but I bought them because I figure I can go on the internet and learn the details later. That is the way to shop a garage sale.