I go thrifting. A lot. I have routes. Routes that span distances, mind you. Robust routes that require me to rise early and eat in the car just to make it to that final destination before they’re turning off the lights and demanding all purchases be brought to the check out…Now! I know which thrift stores have the bathroom I want to use. I know which ones have the weird hours, which ones are bound to have a sale. And I have opinions. Don’t get me started on the decline of St. Vincent DePaul Thrift Stores. Seriously, I’m really upset about it.
I have a terrible memory. I can’t remember the name of the person who starred in the movie I just saw—actually, the title is escaping me right now, too. It was really good though. I still have to look up my own mother’s birthday, just to be sure. I know it’s in September, but is it the 13th or the 15th? But, ask me to recollect where I purchased that vintage embroidery wall hanging with the swaying tree on it, and I can describe it for you in detail.It was a perfect summer day. I was on my favorite route, visiting the Saint Vinny’s in Watertown. I spotted it perched high on a shelf amidst a sea of nature prints and religious art and I knew immediately: It would be mine. There would be no hemming and hawing over this one. Five bucks? Hell, yeah. I would’ve paid $15. I would have regretted it forever if it was $20 and I didn’t buy it. I felt a rush of elation the whole way home, as if I had just won the gold medal in an Olympic event.
I really did. I’m starting to wonder what’s wrong with me. But, you can decide for yourself. I love it. Here it is: