Junk Drunk Part 2
If you are up to date with the first part of this post, Junk Drunk Part 1, you know that Junk Intoxication is in full force and getting worse…
I teetered and tottered across the street (where seconds before, I almost got hit by a car) as my purse banged against my leg, upside down and not zipped shut, and my Starbucks sloshed over the cup brim and onto my hand. No problem, I was wearing a rain jacket. Why was I wearing a rain jacket and where did the Starbuck’s come from?! Focus!
I staggered towards the shop and noticed a little old lady in the front yard straightening out junk, propped against the front picket fence, with authority. I recognized a fellow business owner when I saw one, even in my crazed state. Everything my eyes landed on had perfect patina that can only be genuinely obtained. My heart- I think I acquired heart palpitations. I reached the sidewalk in front of the store and leaned forward with my hands on my knees gasping for air. The name of this condition?
I was Junk Drunk.
I recovered and rushed towards the little old lady, gaining control just before I could grab her and be charged with assault. Can you picture my arrest report? Drunk white female grabs little old lady by her upper arms shaking her while having what must be an acute attack of an undiagnosed junk illness as she screamed, “Give me the good stuff!” Later in a news report, the Sheriff shook his head as he said with sympathy, “It’s just so sad- these junkies…”
“I am so excited that you’re open!” I think that’s what I said- I couldn’t tell. My words sounded slurred even to me.
The little old lady, 4’9″ and so petite she could be considered tiny, leaned in really close and said, “What?!”
Get it together, get it together. “I said, How are you today?”
“Oh! I musta misheard ya.” I am a disgrace, I fully admit it. “What are you looking for, honey?”
“Everything!” I said with a dreamy smile. Wrong answer. I just gift wrapped every bit of negotiation power I thought I had and handed it over to her with a pretty bow on top.
“What?!” Redemption- it’s a powerful gift and totally wasted on me in this moment.
“I said, a little bit of this and that.” I answered.
“Oh. Honey, I can’t hear a word you’re saying. I have a handsome young man inside that can help you better than I can…but he don’t know prices. Prices are my deal.” she shouted.
Clue #1- that statement should have been the sobering moment but, no. I was intoxicated on junk and oblivious to the con that was only beginning from a pro in the junk world- no matter that she was 90 years old, hard of hearing, seemingly senile and barely mobile.
I stepped into the front door of the house. My heart, I swear I had to grab my chest as if to keep my adrenaline pickled heart from leaving the scene. I swayed and caught my balance against a true and real farmhouse table and just stared at it- chunky legs, gorgeous stain, character galore. I looked up and noticed a younger fellow staring at me and I straightened up.
I introduced myself and expressed interest in an old chicken nesting box and asked for a price. I still don’t know, even now, what he said. My ADD combined with the rush of a good fix of junk had kicked in and focus was not possible.
My eyes landed on a authentic pie safe- does it have all of its pressed tin panels? I looked back at Young Man (did he tell me his name?) and realized he was still talking. I smiled a neutral catch all, can’t go wrong smile.
My eyes shifted and landed on a bead board step back hutch. Does it have the little wooden cupboard door latch? I glanced back at Young Man. He had stopped talking- when? No clue. He was staring at me expectantly.
“I guess I’m going to look around,” I said and then a snockered little giggle escaped my mouth. Young Man gave me a weird look and pulled a phone close to him in case he needed to call 911 fast. I saw him glance towards a nearby security camera as if to make sure that I would be caught on the recording video surveillance, to be used at a later date, when I stained the upholstery of a chair with drool I could feel coming out of my open, starstruck mouth.
Not waiting for a response, I swiveled around on weak knees and staggered towards shopping nirvana…
…and found myself, two hours later, sitting in my car, fully loaded (the car and I) having no idea what just happened.
Junk Drunk + 90 year old lady with mad junk dealing skills= A master of the Tricks of the Junk Trade…keep reading to find out just how good she was…