Our neighborhood is in still in a rather sad state. The city has yet to make it over to our neck of the woods to collect storm debris. Every house on our street has a five-foot pile of limbs, fencing and garbage on their curb. And I'd be lying if I said we didn't slow down while driving by so that we can examine the neighbor's damage. (Side note: If a backyard had a swing set in it you can now find the attached slide in the debris pile, as slides did not fair well.)
Apparently, I'm not the only one who likes to nose around in the neighbor's garbage. Because Madge came running into my living room screaming: "COME ON RIGHT NOW! THERE IS A TABLE WE NEED ON YOUR NEIGHBOR'S CURVE!!!" So I jumped up and followed her down the street where a really pretty mahogany coffee table was sitting next to the dump pile. We couldn't determine for certain if they were throwing it out or if we they were moving it in, so Madge knocked on the door and had the neighbor confirm the table was, in fact, free for the taking. SCORE!
Madge was so excited over her find that she didn't allow us to go bring back some husbandly manpower or even car to haul it back down the street. No, instead, she insisted we hoist it onto our backs and walk it back to my house. And this method worked out just fine UNTIL MADGE DROPPED HER END AND IT CLIPPED ME IN THE BACK OF THE KNEES. And do you know what she said? Let me tell you what she didn't say. She didn't say: "Wow, dude. Sorry. My bad. We should have gotten help." No. She most certainly did not say that. Rather she said only one word: "Oops." The way she said it was all nonchalant, with no regard for my physical pain. "Oops?" I said, trying to recover. "That's all you're going to say is OOPS!" Then she told me to quit whining and keep walking. The table wasn't going to move itself.
But I got Madge's "oops" right here, folks. Because that table didn't go home with her. No sirree. It is in my living room, complimenting the one nice piece of furniture I own – a beautiful entertainment center with curio cabinets that took us two years to pay off. That table was someone's piece of trash and it yet it somehow matches my treasures perfectly. Pretty much, that is a metaphor for my life, I think.
After we had cleaned the table thoroughly and had been sitting around staring at our find, someone suggested driving around the neighborhood and seeing what else we could take from people's trash piles. And by someone else, it was either me or Madge or Tree because our husbands were totally disgusted at the thought of us digging through garbage for things we'd make them use/wear/fix. They had a hard time seeing this as the retail therapy it was. It was like shopping without ever breaking out the Visa. Now you tell me, isn't that the greatest idea ever!
Tree loaded us up in her Pontiac Vibe, dubbed the HMS Scooter 2. We scoured the neighborhood, garnishing a variety of reactions from homeowners as we inspected their piles. We even considered taking a bicycle that was on the curb. Not because it was being thrown away, but to teach the kid who owned it a lesson about leaving their belonging in near the road.
In addition to the table we salvaged the following items in new or BARELY used condition:
For Tree's baby, Preemie Donna we got the following:
Car seat
Baby walker
Baby bouncer
Baby rocking toy
For Madge and Madgette:
A giant box of teaching supplies (If I were a teacher I could tell you what all was in there. But I’m not, so I can't. I'm told, however, that is all very expensive, very nice teaching tools that are still in their wrappers and would cost like $1,000 if purchased.)
Metal garden décor
Hanging "welcome" sign
Rolling play cart
Set of plastic drawers
For me:
A really nice, brand new deep pan
Not bad for a hour of driving around in a hurricane devastated neighborhood. And let me tell you, there is something exhilarating about taking things from someone's front yard without permission and throwing it into your car and speeding off like you're the Bo and Luke Duke and Boss Hogg is hot on your tail. And the pride that accompanies this is indescribable. You should have seen us blown up like roosters when we carried our finds into the house. You also should have seen the looks on our husband's faces. They were largely silent until they realized who the items were for.
The Aggie, having been reassured that most of the items weren't staying in our home, was very agreeable about the whole process. Erstwhile, the Razorback was mentally calculating how much of the crap would actually fit into the car. When he realized that there was no reason all the baby crap would be going home with him, then he agreed that digging through the garbage was the best thing since the invention of toilet paper.
P.Daddy, however, was not so happy. In fact, he was convinced his newborn daughter would catch small pox from the car seat we salvaged. Which is just crazy talk. If Preemie Donna is going to catch anything from our trash finds, then it will be the fleas or chiggers. Small pox was eradicated in 1979.
Apparently, I'm not the only one who likes to nose around in the neighbor's garbage. Because Madge came running into my living room screaming: "COME ON RIGHT NOW! THERE IS A TABLE WE NEED ON YOUR NEIGHBOR'S CURVE!!!" So I jumped up and followed her down the street where a really pretty mahogany coffee table was sitting next to the dump pile. We couldn't determine for certain if they were throwing it out or if we they were moving it in, so Madge knocked on the door and had the neighbor confirm the table was, in fact, free for the taking. SCORE!
Madge was so excited over her find that she didn't allow us to go bring back some husbandly manpower or even car to haul it back down the street. No, instead, she insisted we hoist it onto our backs and walk it back to my house. And this method worked out just fine UNTIL MADGE DROPPED HER END AND IT CLIPPED ME IN THE BACK OF THE KNEES. And do you know what she said? Let me tell you what she didn't say. She didn't say: "Wow, dude. Sorry. My bad. We should have gotten help." No. She most certainly did not say that. Rather she said only one word: "Oops." The way she said it was all nonchalant, with no regard for my physical pain. "Oops?" I said, trying to recover. "That's all you're going to say is OOPS!" Then she told me to quit whining and keep walking. The table wasn't going to move itself.
But I got Madge's "oops" right here, folks. Because that table didn't go home with her. No sirree. It is in my living room, complimenting the one nice piece of furniture I own – a beautiful entertainment center with curio cabinets that took us two years to pay off. That table was someone's piece of trash and it yet it somehow matches my treasures perfectly. Pretty much, that is a metaphor for my life, I think.
After we had cleaned the table thoroughly and had been sitting around staring at our find, someone suggested driving around the neighborhood and seeing what else we could take from people's trash piles. And by someone else, it was either me or Madge or Tree because our husbands were totally disgusted at the thought of us digging through garbage for things we'd make them use/wear/fix. They had a hard time seeing this as the retail therapy it was. It was like shopping without ever breaking out the Visa. Now you tell me, isn't that the greatest idea ever!
Tree loaded us up in her Pontiac Vibe, dubbed the HMS Scooter 2. We scoured the neighborhood, garnishing a variety of reactions from homeowners as we inspected their piles. We even considered taking a bicycle that was on the curb. Not because it was being thrown away, but to teach the kid who owned it a lesson about leaving their belonging in near the road.
In addition to the table we salvaged the following items in new or BARELY used condition:
For Tree's baby, Preemie Donna we got the following:
Car seat
Baby walker
Baby bouncer
Baby rocking toy
For Madge and Madgette:
A giant box of teaching supplies (If I were a teacher I could tell you what all was in there. But I’m not, so I can't. I'm told, however, that is all very expensive, very nice teaching tools that are still in their wrappers and would cost like $1,000 if purchased.)
Metal garden décor
Hanging "welcome" sign
Rolling play cart
Set of plastic drawers
For me:
A really nice, brand new deep pan
Not bad for a hour of driving around in a hurricane devastated neighborhood. And let me tell you, there is something exhilarating about taking things from someone's front yard without permission and throwing it into your car and speeding off like you're the Bo and Luke Duke and Boss Hogg is hot on your tail. And the pride that accompanies this is indescribable. You should have seen us blown up like roosters when we carried our finds into the house. You also should have seen the looks on our husband's faces. They were largely silent until they realized who the items were for.
The Aggie, having been reassured that most of the items weren't staying in our home, was very agreeable about the whole process. Erstwhile, the Razorback was mentally calculating how much of the crap would actually fit into the car. When he realized that there was no reason all the baby crap would be going home with him, then he agreed that digging through the garbage was the best thing since the invention of toilet paper.
P.Daddy, however, was not so happy. In fact, he was convinced his newborn daughter would catch small pox from the car seat we salvaged. Which is just crazy talk. If Preemie Donna is going to catch anything from our trash finds, then it will be the fleas or chiggers. Small pox was eradicated in 1979.
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