Ok, I guess this should be secret confession number four. I love rummage sales. Usually at a church, but not necessarily. Some place where blue haired old ladies sort and price items with skewed logic. You know, a bundle of half used spiral notebooks for four dollars and Muppet Show Colorforms in their original box are ten cents. An ancient Avon perfume bottle shaped like an owl is fourteen dollars, but books are ten cents for paperbacks, twenty five for hard cover.
I was at one of these last weekend. Unfortunately I wasn't a doorbuster. It started at seven and I was there at seven thirty. So in my mind, since I didn't find much, all the good rummage was taken before I got there. Damn those other doorbusters!
Still, I rubbed my hands together with gleeful anticipation and asked the retired guy at the door handing out paper bags where he kept the rummage. He passed me a grocery bag, and informed me I could fill it with clothes for a dollar.
If that statement doesn't get a rummage junky's heart racing, I don't know what will. Crazy, subjective pricing. Ahh, gotta love it.
So I found a few books, and a Fisher Price Woodsey the Squirrel log house with Uncle Fletcher squirrel inside. That was the extent of my purchased rummage. Five books for a dollar and an eighties toy for fifty cents. But the thrill of the rummage hunt?
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