Oh. The weather is inclement today. I must have a laundry full of laundry.
This is how laundry glowers at you. It can become quite the malevolent force when left to breed for the week-end. Those soccer socks were not there before I took this photo. I swear that pile breathed when I opened the door.
The laundry talismans have failed me again. Perhaps I need a nice young Finnish one.
So I took the youngest born and fled to a safe and happy haven where Ron and Bryan bestowed me with some oppin' booty...and it was good. I spied this big vase through the window of my favourite op- shop on the week- end having taken the sad ten year old for a 50 cent cone to get the toddler to sleep. (Honestly, the reasons I make up to go there and now I'm involving the children.) Nanna had come over with the Freddos and the divine Miss M was pumped. She has her own addiction which we'll get to another time. Is it bad to be waiting outside the oppie at 9 am Monday to get that thing you saw? Is this becoming a little problem? My monogamous relationship with this particular op shop was rewarded with some other goodies too, none of which I needed.
I find if I go to other op shops sometimes the op shop karma is adversely affected and no booty is forthcoming for a while. It is also affected by the quality of one's donations. I have heard the keepers of the op shop speak in a low and cranky voice of those who dump junk. It will never be me because they give me too many discounts and I want to stay friends.
As I was sticking the keys in the ignition I glimpsed something very orange glowing in the window display. It was not there before. Ron had popped it in just as we were leaving.
I had to go back in and then got the plastic doilies that had just appeared on the counter. Ron was asked not to put anything else out until he saw my car drive away.
She is exhausted and holding herself back from the slotted spoon. If she patiently allows me to loiter in the oppy, I grant her a kitchen utensil for the sand pit. Please don't judge harshly.
What a haul!
ReplyDeleteHow I miss the Op Shop world. I just tried to buy a business suit from the shop with the dumb catalogue models and, let me tell you, the service was not of the standard that Ron seems to provide.
Plastic doilies are something to be proud of.
SHOW US YOUR SQUIRREL!!
My squirrel indeed! You bloggettes are very forward! Since you have been informed of the squirrel, I may use him as blog fodder when I run out of ideas which might be tomorrow at this rate.
ReplyDeleteI try my hardest to stay away but my car has a mind of its own. It stops at every op shop/thrift store along the way. Not my fault, honest. Did I tell you, orange is my favorite color? The laundry can wait. In my house, it's stood strong for years.
ReplyDeleteYes, your name is Annie and you are an addict.
ReplyDeleteAnna: And I shall never stop, I tell you, never!
ReplyDeleteWhat's the story on the squirrel??? You Aussie gals are all op shop shopping mavens. Lovely!
ReplyDeleteAnnie, you can visit any time and see us living with op shop potentials. Except, a respectable op shop would draw the line at the glued together items which abound.
ReplyDeleteThe lord of the manor buys a new glue each week at Bunnings to graduate to the master class.
And what do you mean about that slotted spoon?
Mine would never be allowed in a sand pit, unless that's what a careless on-looker might fairly call my kitchen.
Deb: What's a maven? An op shopping Canadian raven?
ReplyDeleteDMC: I have my own slotted spoon but it is not as pretty as her op shop sandpit one.
You are so clever with sandpit incentives in the Op Shop. Laundry talismans? I like your style alot. I look forward to having my own 'real' home in Darwin to add some real personality too. Your home has a big, happy and inspiring persona.
ReplyDeleteI'm going to miss my little network of Op Shops and the sales folk when I leave.
Sonia: (It is all I can do not to write that backwards now!) What a pity you have to leave so soon after connecting. Will you continue the blog doing a Darwin reno?
ReplyDelete