I generally don’t shop at garage sales very much. It can be a lot of fun, don’t get me wrong, but I’m rarely in the right place at the right time, and I try to avoid temptation to buy things I don’t really need. That said, I am a complete sucker for antiques, so if I happen upon a sale that has a lot of nice old things, all bets are off. Mr. Boy and I were on our way to the car wash to rid my car of all manner of junk that has accumulated, when we passed a yard sale with an unusually nice assortment of fine things set out on the lawn. A bright red chair caught his eye as we drove by in the car. On a whim, I decided to ditch our decidedly less fun plans, withdrew a little money from the bank, and turned the car around to peruse the sale.
There were lots of neat things to look at and the prices were great, but I talked myself out of buying anything. Barring any last-minute glitches, we are going to be moving house in a few weeks, and I have put a moratorium on bringing any more stuff into this house (and the new one). “Okay, I’m all set!” I told Mr. Boy, after we had perused every little item, including testing out whether the ocean could be heard from a large seashell. “What about my red chair?!” he asked, concerned. He was very determined that he absolutely needed it “to sit in.” Mr. Boy is not the sort to throw a temper tantrum if I don’t buy a particular toy or treat he wants from the store, and he was so serious about the chair, that I gave in. I handed him the money so he could walk up to the owner and pay for it himself (he thinks she paid him $10 to take the chair), and he was delighted to watch me fit it into the car.
First we had the very important task of testing it out in his playroom to see if it would fit at his child-size table. Of course I knew it wouldn’t, but we had to see for certain. I convinced him that, for now, it looks nice in a corner of his bedroom.
“It is ‘pectacular!” Mr. Boy told me. “Do you know what ‘pectacular means? It’s another word for really great!”
And I have to agree. I love the chair’s shape, the woven seat and the cheerful coat of red enamel as much as he does. I’m also thinking that Mr. Boy and I should stay away from Bouckville this year–I can’t rely on him to talk me out of any impulse buys, and he might just talk me into something.