Friday, August 4, 2017

Stuff, stuff, stuff . . . & love

I slept TWELVE solid hours last night!😴
I'd worked hard, cleaning out the electronics section:
it's a jumble of fairly heavy items such as big TVs (modern ones, of course, so not all that heavy, but heavy enough!), computer monitors, stereo speakers, and big, old DVD players.
I enjoyed restoring order (it was a mess! I put tons of broken or long-unsold stuff in recycling), but as I often do, I worked too hard and too fast, and that's bad because then I don't maintain good posture and my body mechanics get sloppy.
No one expects me to do the heavy lifting or pressures me to work too hard--on the contrary, they say, "take it easy", even the managers--but I get enthusiastic for whatever I'm doing.
I'm in such a good mood lately––intermittent sadness about my father aside––mostly from my new job. (The great weather helps too––weirdly cool temps in the 70sºF.) 
There are some annoyances (2 of the 4 managers, including the top boss, are moody--that's hard to work with), but overall, the team works well together. The customers are almost all pleasant, or at least neutral, and I often enjoy chatting with them. 
And the stuff is occasionally very interesting. I love the toys most, you know, but I keep an eye out for other cool stuff.
Yesterday, I rescued a wooden lead-type drawer (from the days of printing by hand) from the trash, where the donations-sorter had tossed it.

I told this young man it was valuable, even though one of the dividers was chipped (which, he told me, is why he'd tossed it). 

I suggested pricing it at $3.99, which I knew was a STEAL--and indeed, it sold within the hour to a customer who commented on what a good deal it was.
I looked it up when I got home, and they sell online for around $50.
I grew up with parents who loved that sort of thing, and bought it at thrift stores and an occasional auction. My mother, who'd inherited her Victorian tastes, as well as some family possessions, from her own mother, taught us to comb the tassels of our Turkish carpets, iron hand-worked linen pillowcases, polish the tarnished silverware, oil the old oak table my father bought at a farm auction (I have it now), season the cast-iron skillets, and be careful washing the vintage china (I'm a dish breaker...). 
I do see the value in these wonderful old things (not money, but craft and care, beauty and history), but personally, I prefer the mid-century design of the Star Trek era, which my parents frowned upon--I think neither of them owned anything plastic when they died, except stuff like ice-cube trays.

Speaking of which, yesterday a young man bought two ice-cube trays (99¢ each), commenting that he was glad to find them--his grocery store only carried designer trays (of silicon or something), for $11.

Anyway, though I don't want it myself, I'm afraid vintage stuff often goes unrecognized by these young and uneducated-in-antiques guys, who toss it out, as too old/broken/dirty.
If I'm there and notice, I can rescue some of it, but I'm not going to worry too much, because the truth is,
And more incoming every day, all the time... It's kind of sickening.
So, you hope most of the quality stuff gets put out for sale, but there's just too much stuff to mourn if it doesn't.
Americans, at least in urban centers, have access to a ton of cheap stuff.
We suffer more, I think in poverty of hope, spirit, community, health care, and quality education... But you can't buy love, so I try to be... maybe this sounds overblown, but, really, I try to be loving at the cash register. Until I've been working on my feet for about five hours, and then I settle for being polite.

After work yesterday, I went out for happy hour at the sports bar across the street (my coworkers' hangout) with the young guy who'd tossed the type drawer. We were talking about this poverty-of-spirit stuff, and he told me that love vibrates at the same megahertz as the earth.

Whatever in the world that means, I'm not sure, but I like it––or, anyway, I like that he likes it. Even if he throws out antiques, he cares about love.


Anonymous said...

!!! The type drawer!!! If you ever find another, set it aside. Wouldn't that be perfect for all M's nibs and do-dads? That would have been a perfect b-day present.

Nice post. Love and junk...I mean antiques...the world is better for both of them.

bink said...

The comment wasn't suppose to be anonymous...of course it was me!

Michael Leddy said...

Those silicone ice-cube trays stink — literally, because silicone absorbs odors at low temperatures. You can guess how it is that I know that. When I called the company to complain, they suggested washing the trays with water and vinegar every couple of months and not storing cubes in the tray. Yeah, right. That these trays (brandname: Tovolo) were recommended on the Cool Tools website adds an awkward layer of irony. They are though okay for storing paper clips and such, though not nearly as cool as that type drawer.

Frex said...

bink: Oh, darn. If I see another, it's yours! (Or, M's.)

MICHAEL: Not store cubes in the tray?!?!?
Jeepers---that's high-maintenance for low performance...

deanna said...

Hey, there. I'm so glad you're enjoying your job. I relate, enjoying mine also, and I may actually get time to post about it soon...Anyway, thanks for the view of your coworker's take on the megahertz of love. I'll have to tell my engineer hubby...

Fresca said...

DEANNA: If Tim can explain that in engineering terms, I'd love to hear the explanation!

I'm excited to read more about your job! when you get the time.
I just quit mine, but I DID enjoy it for a while and am grateful it was part of my life this summer.