The Mister and I decided to leave our cave and take advantage of his extended vacation by making a quick trip to the thrift store. To be honest, this was my first trip that did not involve horribly out of fashion clothing for a themed dress up day in school. The Mister, as we all know, is in and out of these places all the time. That is the only way I can explain why the stench of shattered dreams and lost hope didn’t slap him six ways from Sunday when we walked in the front door. The assault on my senses was especially bad walking through the appliance section. If every object has a story, then the refrigerator Mikey opened when I wasn’t paying attention all but gasped nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.
I also have a terrible eye, or at least one that ignores things without spotlights, soft music, and Madison Avenue marketing plans. I walked by every single piece of awesome furniture the Mister later found like a suburban prospector. It’s like his eyes are set with mid century cross hairs, and mine? I don’t know. Maybe Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Certainly something food related, because everything I found interesting was in the housewares section.
If this sweet Corningware casserole dish still had it’s lid, I would have snapped her right up, The floral pattern reminded my of my friend, Nicole.
These aqua numbers immediately reminded me of my other friend, Tristan, except for the fact that OH MY WORD I know this is the Salvation Army but could the original owners taken the trouble to give the dishes a quick rinse before they tossed them in the donate pile? Is that scrambled egg on the third cup from the top? Disgusting. It’s called a kitchen sink, and it’s not just for flicking your cigarettes.
The compartments in this dinner platter appealed to my rigid, uncompromising side. It is also a very happy yellow color, which personifies me perfectly. I’m anal retentive and chipper. There’s a difference.
If Dairy Queen is my dessert, popcorn is my dinner. This is actually one of a set of four, and they are cute, except they are not, really. They’re kind of ugly and the font looks like olives, and I can’t eat popcorn when I feel like I should be eating something stuffed with a pimento. Also, sized as they are to hold no more than 1 cup of popcorn, they are, shall we say, a waste of my time.
The only person who lucked out on this trip was Mikey, who was thrilled to discover a birdhouse ready for him to paint. He has been obsessed with the idea of building and painting a birdhouse for at least a month, and because Mikey doesn’t just decide to do something willy-nilly, he already had the design concept fleshed out. His birdhouse was going to have bright colors, mainly red and green, and lots of polka-dots. All birds LOVE polka-dots (duh,) so a birdhouse without polka-dots really isn’t a birdhouse at all. Maybe a birdrental, but not a birdhouse. We didn’t have the heart to tell him his birdhouse was actually a tissue dispenser, so we are currently sketching out blueprints for the birdhouse remodel. We might also just buy a real birdhouse.