I'm suffering from a severe case of antiques apathy. I go to an antique store. I look around. Up and down. Then- a big old yawn and shrug. It's funny, I still like to look but the little chip that triggers the wallet grab is malfunctioning. It's not really a money thing, since I've always had the cheery ability to overlook financial prudence. It's a bored of stuff thing. A full house that's rapidly becoming less full thing.
I've been heaping the cast offs on my sidewalk for my neighbors- rusty bird cages and typewriters and straw hats and mirrors and desks and dressers and thrift store paintings. Out out out. The only thing that's called, shouted, screamed my name and demanded to be bought is this Merrick thread display case. I got it back in the fall from my favorite of favorite folks in Brooklyn and I think we're going to grow old together. Love is a beautiful thing.
It cost as much as it would if you took a boy you liked (as if!) out to dinner on his birthday and you let him get dessert with your rare steaks. A bottle of wine, too. You know, a white table cloth-y kind of place. Since things like that don't happen in my life, I ate nachos for dinner and it all worked out in the end. How could I pretend for a minute I wasn't going to snap it up immediately? It's got my name written all over it.