Reminiscing

I don't write much about myself primarily because I consider my life to be extremely boring (not to me but to an audience).There is a distinct lack of drama in my life which I find extremely desirable. I don't do drama gracefully. Of course there are moments when like Monsieur Proust I have recollections that are powerful and sweet. Unlike Monsieur Proust the only other talent I share is disposition for asthma. It was a long time ago that I abandoned any aspirations of becoming an author.
So, getting to the point of this rant, Saturday mornings were once filled with excitement and anticipation when my better half and I would venture out in our suburban jungle on a safari for garage sales. She with a list of addresses and me behind the wheel we would set out for discoveries unknown but much anticipated.
Memories flood in of times standing outside a house, amongst a crowd of impatient bargain hunters as ruthless as any imaginable, ready to push,shove,elbow their way to the bargains once the house opened the garage for business.
Deceased estate garage sales were the places where the vultures gathered (not Pumpkin and myself, we were discerning in our purchases).
That is how we bought our first and still in use, lawn mower. It was a touch and go buy as Pumpkin and an Indian woman each with one hand on the mower acted out a tug of war as to who was first to put their hand on the mower in question.
It wasn't long before our house was overflowing with "bargains" that we proudly showed off to friends who admired (to our faces anyway) what bargains we had scored.
Furniture was always a "steal" at garage sale prices and many times we found ourselves wondering how in the hell we'd be able to fit the huge bookshelf/chest of drawers/bed in our family sedan. No problem was insurmountable if you could just figure out how to dismantle the piece in question.
After a while it was necessary to run our own garage sale as we had accumulated items well beyond our requirements and worse, run out of space to put everything.
Of course, we did have to overcome obstacles such as major spinal surgery for Pumpkin which put her temporarily out of action. Nevertheless, walking stick in hand, she wasn't going to be deprived of her regular Saturday morning adventure.
It was at some indeterminate time that we found ourselves cruising the streets in the company of other professional vultures looking for the ultimate in bargains, the discarded rubbish in front of houses placed there for the annual hard rubbish collection.
There was the lamp shade, the bedside lamp, the glass coffee table, the painting, amongst other trophies of recycling that adorned our house. The fact that these objects needed a bit of attention in repair or cleaning made them all the more treasured.
As all other good things, this regular Saturday morning adventure had to come to an end, probably out of exhaustion rather than any decline in the number of regular garage sales occurring.