I was fancy and ridiculous once upon a time. Now I am not fancy. I am still ridiculous in divers ways far removed from the type of ridiculous I used to be.
I bought a leopard print coat and matching skirt once upon a time. Three years ago, maybe? Who can remember. All I did was shop in those days. It was my "addiction". Simply couldn't do without it, shopping. (I had to do something while the cleaning ladies were mopping my floors, for heaven's sake! What do you take me for!)
I knew I HAD to have her the moment I laid eyes on her. It was love.
She purred and meowed her way into my arms that day in The Saks. I could not resist her charms. I did not care the cost. I had several leopard print coats and sweaters and the like but I did not have HER. Mrrreow kitty kitty kitty.
I would be a leopard or a black panther if I were an animal. I would sit atop trees and ponder the universe. I would lick my lips and seductively swish my tail with unparalleled confidence. I would pounce only when absolutely necessary. Survival of the fittest and all that jazz. Yawn.
The cost of the coat was a paltry $250. The skirt was another $200. Seemed reasonable.
I brought the purring duo home and strutted about the house for my husband. I lulled him into a trance like Delilah to her Sampson. He never asked what I had spent. Don't ask don't tell was my shopping motto. It worked for us.
$250 was a steal, after all. Practically GIVEN away. I should have been arrested for shoplifting, really. $250? Pft. Chump change.
The next day I discovered The Saks shop girl had neglected to remove the sensor from my lovely coat. I would have to return to the store and have it removed. UGH! The hassle barely seemed worth the effort. Yawn.
I told myself I would eventually take the coat back and have the sensor removed. I tossed my new toy to the back of my closet. There she remained until the economy drove her from said custom closet to a cozy cardboard box.
We had a yard sale this weekend.
That's right! The Pistols sat on the side of the road and sold their old crap. And glorious crap it was too. I spent the better party of Friday night dressing naked Barbie dolls and sorting through baby clothes long since forgotten.
While weeding through garage boxes I found her.
She still had her sensor and pricey price tags.
I held her gingerly. My heart skipped a beat. My pulse quickened.
OH THE LUXURY! OH! HOW GRATEFUL I WAS TO FIND THIS TREASURE! SO SOFT AND KIND AND INVITING WAS SHE! I WOULD NEVER PURCHASE SUCH AN EXQUISITE ARTICLE NOW! I NEVER COULD! SO MUCH HAS CHANGED. BUT HER! SHE IS THE SAME! MY LONG LOST FRIEND! I LOVE YOU, FRIEND! I DO!
I smiled like a fool as I ran my hands along the silky lining.
I quickly hopped in my car.
"Excuse me," I said. "It seems one of your sales girls forgot to remove the sensor on this coat three years ago."
I wore her ( the coat, not the sales girl) that night to a music festival.
So excited was I to wear my new find I had forgotten to remove the price tag that hung below my left armpit.
I greeted many a friend warmly and with confidence in my new old leopard purry meow meow kitty coat with the tag dangling from my armpit. I was blissfully unaware until a friend whispered my faux pas.
I was embarrassed. Shockingly though, I was not ashamed of the tag itself but by the price I had paid. If anyone discovered how frivolous I had been I would simply lock myself in a cage and subsist only on bread and water and maybe a few brownies but that's it.
The next morning The Pistols garage saled their way into oblivion.
We made out like bandits and celebrated heartily. We cheered and hugged and laughed and could not believe our good fortune!
We had a delicious lunch and talked about what a good idea yard sales are. We discussed how all you have to do is sit there on a Saturday for several hours and VIOLA! Money! Cash MONEY! And you can't put a price on THAT!
We made $250.
