I was really hoping to pick up my new glasses today, but I called just now and was informed that they’re still not ready. “They sent me the wrong lenses! Twice! Well, the first ones were wrong. The second ones were scratched. Hopefully I’ll have them done tomorrow.” I suspect all of that to be elaborate code for “Tuesday I took the day off, Wednesday I had to sell some other people some stuff, and today I’m mostly surfing Amazon and spending the big hunk of money you gave me on Monday.” Hmph. So, tomorrow; maybe. Pardon me while I tilt my head a little like I’m really interested in what you’re saying, but in reality I’m just peering at you through the one teeny tiny spot on my glasses that isn’t blurry.
But! I am quite cheerful today, nonetheless, because I have friends who are just like me. Camaraderie can come in many forms, but the bond forged over a bargain high is a beautiful thing. Excuse me a moment… there’s something in my eye….
I knew it had to be something amazing, because it started like this:
8:40 AM, the phone rings. Caller ID: friend’s cell.
Me: Hey! What’s up?
Me: Hello? Are you there?
Me: Bad connection. Call me back!
8:41 AM, the phone rings. Caller ID: friend’s cell.
Me: You there?
Me: Hello? Hello?
(line goes dead)
8:42 AM, the phone rings. Caller ID: friend’s cell.
Me: Bark once for yes! Did Timmy fall down the well??
Me: AAARRRGGGHHHHHH!!! Call me back you dork!
8:48 AM, the phone rings. Caller ID: friend’s home phone.
Me: Something is seriously wrong with your cell phone.
Her: I know! I know! I’m sorry! But I was so excited, I wanted to call you right away, and I think my cell battery is dead.
Me: Well what’s the big excitement?
Her: I went to the dump this morning!
Me: Wow. That is exciting!
Her: Shut up. Remember how I told you they clean out the Still Good Shed on Wednesdays?
Her: Well it was completely empty this morning except for ONE bag. One lone bag, sitting in the corner.
Me: And the bag contained…?
Her: Oh, just some clothes.
Her: Just some size 4, gorgeous, dry-cleaning-tags-attached Ann Taylor clothes. Gosh, I wish I knew someone who was a size 4!
Me: I’M A SIZE 4!! Pick me! Pick me!
Her: Oh yeah, that’s right. There’s a couple of purses in here, too. I’m bring it all over to you later.
Do you think it’s a trap? I mean, it’s so hard for me to digest that my town is so full of over-rich people who simply have their expensive clothes dry cleaned before they leave them at the dump like garbage, it’s not much of a stretch to believe that the next time there’s a PTA function the lights will go out and a black light will sweep the room, illuminating the invisible ink that was used to scrawl “THE WEARER PICKS UP EXPENSIVE CLOTHES LEFT AT THE DUMP” on the front of my blouse. It could be something like that, you know.
Then I realized, all of the rich snooty people around here already despise me, anyway. So what the heck!
My friend arrived with her arms full. Oooohhhhhhh. Pretty, pretty clothes. Silk pencil skirts. Cashmere twin sets. A little black dress. And two black purses. The first is a fun medium-sized leather bag from Banana Republic. Very cool.
The second? Is a satin Kate Spade bag. Not a knock-off. (I looked it up!) Be still my cheapskate heart. The only way I’m gonna get to own a Kate Spade bag in this lifetime is to get it from the dump. I can live with that.
Once I top off my new ensembles with my cool new glasses? I’ll be unstoppable. In the sense that I will be making a lot more trips to the dump. Yeehaw!