A Knock on My Door

"I don't have to go to garage sales anymore, people just knock on my door and give me dressers." I spoke into my cell phone as I entered our house once more.  I had just gotten back from a little excursion with the lady who knocked on my door.

I can just see my husband visibly relax in my mind. "Oh, good!" he's probably thinking. 

I do rather enjoy finding a good bargain on a needed [or maybe not so needed] object to bring home.  So, yeah, he might have some good reason to wrinkle up his nose and go "Uhmmm" when I exit the premises to enjoy this gallavanting around town.  Anymore though it's often one or two just around our neighborhood or on the way home from Wal-mart or the local grocery store . . . I like to make connections this way . . . And meet people . . . and chat . . . and yeah, I'm becoming more like my dear husband every year - a social bug.

Actually, in years gone by, we would sometimes take off on a Saturday morning and go garage saling as a date.  So, he does enjoy a good garage sale as well . . . as long as their are some guy things there . . . or his [ahem, cough] lovely wife to keep him company . . . or just anyone to strike up a conversation.  Yeah, he's a good guy like that! 

Like I have said before, we have good neighbors! Here in our neck of the woods, in our neighborhood, people have been known to just drop things off "because you have a large family and probably can use this".  This is true.  We do have a large family, and we usually can use what they bring.  The funny thing is . . . that they do this.

Anything from a basketball hoop stand (which we actually didn't keep, but soon went out and bought a much nicer one) to boxes of clothes, bags of fabric scraps, extra tomato plants, cucumbers, zucchini (You knew that one was coming, didn't you?], nice fuzzy jackets, coffee tables, blue jeans and etc.

  Even dressers I found out today.

I had just finished gobbling down a scrumptious tomato sandwich (Oh, yes, a better tomato than I can grow up here in "my sandbox" sent up with more scrumptious homegrown tomatoes in a box from a few hours south] and  reheated up my leftover coffee from this morning for dessert when I heard a faint knock on the basement door.  Cup in hand (because I am too busy these days and tired of reheating and reheating my coffee and not getting to finish while it is still got), I opened the door.

No familiar face greeted me . . . but a lady . . . a very nice lady who informed me that I was her "neighbor" and was recently at her garage sale and would we need a large dresser perhaps? . . . How did this lady know how I was and were I lived? . . . not sure other than we were there with our bus . . . and the bus is parked by our house advertising where we live. [grin]

"You can just have it," she said.

I'm like "Where was this garage sale at?  Maybe I can come look at it . . . right now. Hmm [thinking] . . . I'll follow you," I said.  I'll come and look at it and take a picture to send to my husband and see what he has to say."

And that was that.

Like I said, I don't hardly need to go to garage sales anymore . . . People just give us things!

. . . but I would miss the interaction and connections and good friends I make and miss not getting to know more good neighbors . . . Yeah, I better keep going now and then . . . Don't you think so?