Yesterday I experienced complete cabin fever. My brain was frozen, and my movement was strained. I was excelling at sleeping, watching television, and giving into The Associates demands. She is quite crafty and easily recognized her harried mothers pattern of acquiescence.
My friend Josh called, I reluctantly Facetimed with him and his phone beamed images of large tables and mannequins, and I was up and out the door in minutes. I called my friend Sarah and she was quickly on board. Her husband soldiered on removing the mom jean wallpaper from their kitchen while I snatched her for what we thought would be an hours excursion.
We found tables for Sarah within the first 10 minutes of wandering the post apocalyptic Macys. I had a nagging feeling that someone was going to steal her tables so we rounded back to make sure no body else could have them. I am pretty sure My Disorder will be thoroughly documented in medical journals soon if it isn’t already. It is brought on by excessive estate and vintage shopping, and results in adverse reactions like paranoia and overpaying. A secondary wave is always around the corner when you spy someone else’s name on all the good stuff. In our case “Erik” got there first and my anxiety spiked, I did some muttering and was calm again. Muttering and deep breathing are the official prescription for My Disorder, in case you also suffer. We were negotiating the price of a large industrial piece. The price was high, it was massive and it did not break down.
The manager wasn’t really willing to budge on the price and we were about to leave when our friendly sales lady mentioned that we should see the blue chip room. The room was quite large and at first glance full of junk but after another turn I began to fixate on red powder coated shelving and pegboard, and guess what? Yep.
I have no immediate use for either of these items but they are really nice and would cost a ton to recreate. We volleyed price quickly realizing that all of us were ridiculously bad at math and had plummeting blood sugar. The entire staff seemed to be suffering from the same brain freeze/ blood sugar dementia and it took approximately 5 times longer than necessary to pay, only to find that our math was still off by 50 dollars. We eventually shelled out our cash, and put our outer shells back on to endure the 1 degree weather (feels like -19.) We hefted table number one and almost fit it in the car. Sarah ran several miles to Sears to get a screw driver while I devoured a mostly frozen brownie that was in the car. With brittle fingers we attempted to get the legs off of the table but they weren’t budging. We dragged the big table back into Macy’s, put the small one in the car and I drove us back to Sarah’s house to gather tools. After some light nourishment and our common sense restored, we drove two cars back to the mall.
I dragged my pieces from the second floor and Sarah set about taking apart her table with the drill. Keep in mind that the staff is no longer allowed to touch the objects once they are sold so we were being observed from afar. I was approached by a fellow customer to help with sizing. It apparently didn’t faze them that I had both feet planted on the wall and was putting all of my weight onto a wrench to loosen one of many bolts.
One person asked if we needed help just in time to lift the heaviest part. I, of course I didn’t take a picture of that one. The Lack of photographic evidence will be especially damning when I go to put it back together and it is one giant jigsaw puzzle. We laughed a lot, almost cried and froze but we got those bohemoths loaded into the cars.
Josh- I am not sure whether to curse you or thank you.
P.S. They are still in the car…..