Saturday, May 1, 2010

Yard Sale

Because I have been waking up at 7:30am to finish writing my essays, I woke up at 7:30am again yesterday and today. On a Saturday morning. 7:30am. Uggggg. On the other hand, it was already sunny and the birds were chirping, so although I knew it was 7:30, it felt like 9am. It was a good way to wake up at 7:30am.

So I pulled on my running shoes and lightly jogged down Emmet St towards Barracks. I hadn't even reached Barracks, when I saw a sign that said "Yard Sales!" Stop running now!

To give a little background information, I am a big fan of yard sales (we could simplify it to being a fan of just sales as well). In New York, I went to high school in a suburban neighborhood bordering NYC. During the summertime, the manicured green lawns and asphalt driveways were often dotted with yard sale pickets and blankets with items. Because I learned how to sew and wield pliers in middle school, these yard sales were my source of unique clothes. A large scarf could become a dress; an interesting but broken brooch could become a necklace; an oversized T-shirt could become a jersey dress; the possibilities were endless!

Going back to the yard sale on Emmet St, even though I had no cash, credit, or debit, I ended my run and just had to look. If I had $10, I could have bought a Coach bag (ew), three pairs of sandals, an entire VCR collection of Disney movies, ten pillows, two five foot lamps, five cases of makeup, or a black ballgown dress. Unfortunately, I didn't have $10 and that imaginary scenario went through my head in a second.

Instead, I booked it to the box that had the "Free Clothes" sign. The woman attending over it held a baby to her hip and looked about late twenties. While I was rummaging through presumably her XS Anthropologie skirts and American Eagle shirts, we struck up a conversation. She is a graduate student, finishing her degree this year. She's looking to go to Boston afterward with her husband and kid. She told me there was a fluorescent stain on the large American Eagle shirt that her husband had gotten in his lab work and refused to wear it since. It sounded sketchy and sci-fi-esque, because she didn't explain what the stain was or why her husband refused to wear it since, so I gently folded it and placed it back in the box.

The conclusion? A tie-back dress with a plunging V-line, a cute black sweater, a button-up linen shirt, and a New York Comapny top. Well done and it's only 9:48am right now.