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Onward… through the never ending stalls of useless crap timeless treasure we went.

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Box of 1950’s risqué playing cards?

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Check! There were two.

Vintage hi fi speakers?

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Check! Two as well.

Absurd 6 legged patriotic corner table?

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Yup. That was there as well.

Because I don’t spend nearly as much time examining the junk unique items on sale as the husband, I’m always far ahead of him in the store. So when I see an area I think might be trouble?

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Like an entire room of rust…

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I try to steer him clear. But this time he surprised me and passed by the tool stall of horrors with nary a glance. We were halfway through the store by this time and I was lulled into a false sense of security that we would exit before dark.

And then….

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He found a pile. Actually he found pile upon piles of ephemera. For the uninitiated pickers among us, an explanation.

Ephemera –
items of collectible memorabilia, typically written or printed ones, that were originally expected to have only short-term usefulness or popularity.

There were boxes stacked on boxes, files stuffed in drawers and a floor to ceiling shelf full of ABSOLUTELY nothing worth a damn. But this didn’t deter my husband, oh no. The more he looked and found nothing? The more he was sure there was something. He just knew an undiscovered copy of the constitution or Abraham Lincoln’s handwritten will was waiting to be unearthed .

I walked the entire mall three times, sat down and blogged for half an hour, chatted with other customers and read two old Life magazines. He still wasn’t done.

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I found old shoes that made my bunion hurt just looking at them.

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And World War II German mountain trooper boots I wouldn’t want to hike the Alps in…. but still, the husband wasn’t through.

After 2 hours and 38 minutes…. ( That’s how long he stood there sorting and sifting through stinky brittle old scraps of paper. Yes. I timed it. ) I pulled him away and gave him an ultimatum. He could finish browsing the store before it closed or I was taking the car and leaving him there.

Since it was a 65 mile walk home? He deserted his giant pile of vintage grocery store lists and life insurance policies and resumed browsing.

To be continued….

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