We went to an awesome auction on Sunday. It was at an older couple’s house and these people kept EVERYTHING. Lots of vintage items and lots of deals to be had. I only bought one item though, mainly because the auctioneer was ridiculously slow. I didn’t want to wait another 4 hours for him to get to some of the other stuff I had my eye on, so I ended up paying for my one item and leaving early.
And my one item was this square topped table with spindly legs, which you have probably seen a zillion times in antique malls. I don’t know when these were popular, but I would guess around the 1930’s.
The lady of the house had painted the original oak a light yellow color years ago and it had just the right amount of chippiness to it now. How did she know that chippy would be the in thing in 2012?
I don’t know if I’ve ever been to an auction before where the people who owned the home were actually at the auction. These people had remarkably little sentimentality about their items being auctioned off. I was expecting to see some tears shed over some of the items, but I just saw smiles!
I know I could not sit through an auction of my stuff without having a major mental breakdown, curling up into a little ball and sucking my thumb. But you know what? That is exactly what will happen to my stuff when I’m gone.
If I am honest with myself, my son is not going to be able to use any of this stuff due to his disabilities. He will have no use for a 1925 Royal typewriter and just about anything else I have here. So it’s not like I’m collecting this stuff to leave to him in my will. Off to an auction it will go.
So, why am I buying stuff at an auction now? That thought just occurred to me as I was writing the paragraph above and I can’t answer that question. I may just be having a breakthrough here.
In mid-shot, I spotted something moving on the hydrangea blossoms.
Eek! Daddy Long legs really do have long legs.
I’d love to say that I brushed him off before I brought the flowers in the house, but it’s more like I couldn’t find him when I went to pick up the vase. I spent the rest of the day flinching whenever a stray hair brushed against my arm.
Frank update – there is no update!!! Why is no one looking for him? Why aren’t there lost cat posters tacked up to telephone poles in town? I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but it doesn’t look like anyone is trying to find him
So, he’s still camping out with us, at least for now.