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When/if I get a car, it's going to be a three-door hatchback. One of the big reasons for getting a vehicle at all would be so that I could transport things I couldn't otherwise move on my bike or the bus. I don't need to move lots of people, and being able to open up the whole back and fold the back seats down means, to pick an example entirely at random, that when I've just bought a little maple secretary to refinish at a garage sale in the rain on impulse, I will not have to call ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
meliz113's mom and her stationwagon to help me get it home when I realise it won't actually ffit in the car.
Yes, you needn't say it, we all know I'm turning into my parents.
Dad used to take me out garage saleing as Saturday morning entertainment when we were broke, when I was very little. First, we'd stop at dunkin' donuts. He'd get black coffee and an unglazed old fashioned. I'd get orange juice and a choclate cake donut with rainbow springles on half, and proceed to pick all the sprinkles off and not drink the juice, because OJ tastes NASTY when you pair with a donut, and sprinkles are gross. We did this every time. The sight appeal of the sprinkles was too much for me to resist, and I had an irrational dislike of milk that came in little cartons.
Some people don't get garage sales. To them you explain the logical benefits. Basically, it's recycling. You look at a lot of shoddy junk, occasionally find things that are decent or at least usable, solid wood furniture or a lawnmower or whatever. Then you don't have to buy it new, and save money and natural resources.
This is rationalization. The actual fact is you see the signs and you MUST FOLLOW THEM. It's like a scent-hound on the trail. There is no concious decision. You cannot abandon the hunt. It's instinctual.
Suddenly, you find culdesacs you never knew existed, and your ability to make u-turns in small neighborhoods becomes refined by your focus on the hunt.
Two hours later, you find yourself at home, hungry, with a maple secretary in need of refinishing in the middle of your living room, and not the foggiest clue what you're going to do with it.
meliz113's mom and her stationwagon to help me get it home when I realise it won't actually ffit in the car.Yes, you needn't say it, we all know I'm turning into my parents.
Dad used to take me out garage saleing as Saturday morning entertainment when we were broke, when I was very little. First, we'd stop at dunkin' donuts. He'd get black coffee and an unglazed old fashioned. I'd get orange juice and a choclate cake donut with rainbow springles on half, and proceed to pick all the sprinkles off and not drink the juice, because OJ tastes NASTY when you pair with a donut, and sprinkles are gross. We did this every time. The sight appeal of the sprinkles was too much for me to resist, and I had an irrational dislike of milk that came in little cartons.
Some people don't get garage sales. To them you explain the logical benefits. Basically, it's recycling. You look at a lot of shoddy junk, occasionally find things that are decent or at least usable, solid wood furniture or a lawnmower or whatever. Then you don't have to buy it new, and save money and natural resources.
This is rationalization. The actual fact is you see the signs and you MUST FOLLOW THEM. It's like a scent-hound on the trail. There is no concious decision. You cannot abandon the hunt. It's instinctual.
Suddenly, you find culdesacs you never knew existed, and your ability to make u-turns in small neighborhoods becomes refined by your focus on the hunt.
Two hours later, you find yourself at home, hungry, with a maple secretary in need of refinishing in the middle of your living room, and not the foggiest clue what you're going to do with it.
