Have you guys ever been embarrassed by your thrift hunting, garage sale-ing, or side-of-the-road scavenging habits?
Sure, we all have to swallow a little gulp of pride when pulling junk off the side of the road or digging through someone else’s castoffs (well, I don’t think I have an overabundance of pride, so my gulp is pretty manageable).
But have you ever been really, truly embarrassed by it?
This happened a while ago, and for some reason I just thought of it recently. I was running, probably training for a race, when I ran by this awesome looking yard sale in the Avenues, which is a fancy, historic neighborhood where there are bound to be treasures. When I’m running hard to Daft Punk or Ratatat (or fine, I’ll admit it- Britney) there is little beyond oncoming cars and grossly protruding sidewalks that can break my concentration, but yard sales are up there.
Sweaty and panting like a malamute in Mississippi, tunes pumping in my ears, I stopped to admire all the fine wares. I was impressed at how nice all their stuff was, and spent some time wondering why the ratio of cool stuff to junk was so high. I was about to look around for someone manning the sale, when I saw it.
A moving truck.
With people hauling stuff out of it.
This is not a yard sale! This is not a yard sale! RUN!
I had intruded on someone’s goods whilst they moved into their new probably awesome eclectic and historic apartment. Inspected. Gazed. Maybe even touched- I can’t remember.
To this day I don’t know if they said anything to me, thanks to my earphones and quick escape.
Does anyone else have such a story of mortification and woe? Do share!