Good Will Hunting

There is a certain allure to it, the hunt, the search, that makes the effort worth the time. Maybe its the cheap prices (a whole dinnerware set for $5!!)...no scratch that, it is the cheap prices primarily that draws me to the thrift stores and the GoodWill stores. Its also that indie feel you get, I suppose, that time warp you sort of drop into because you're surrounded by other people's past possessions and that seeps into the air and you're taking part of their residual energy from their tokens. It's quite existential, really.

I searching in the knick knack aisles because there usually isn't anything for me in the clothing section because even though I am not above wearing someone else's garbs, I wasn't in the mood for the hangar skiiing that it entailed. Knick Knacks are easier. I found two picture frames in which would come in handy because I had just figured out that my printer can also print photos!! And that the manufacturer had even actually included some photo paper in the boz! Now that's something to make you feel great (or stupid because you should have realized this earlier, dOAH!!) But anyhow that was a good find.

In the dishware and pantry section, there were many bozes of stone dinnerware sets that looked appealing and prices ranged from $5 to $20. There was one nice one with a blue color scheme and so I opened the boz (even though it was taped shut) only to find that two of the plates had been broken.

All of a sudden I hear a crashing of a glass in the next aisle. Must be kids. They are always getting their hands into things. I hear a rush of footsteps and some GoodWill workers in their blue polyester vests. One of them stops in my aisle.

"Umm..ma'am do you need some help?" In a very stern voice, I might add.

I shake my head. "No thanks, I was just looking."

She walks closer to me and her eyes narrow. "You know, you're not supposed to open those boxes. The picture in the front shows the design clear as daylight."

I nod. "I just wanted a closer look." I close the top flap of the box.

The unusually, power-hungry staff person, takes a step closer and my hand fingers my mace keychain.

"The boxes are taped because we don't want you to oepn that. Isn't that clear--?" She stops in midsentence.

As I tried to put the box back on the shelf you could hear the slightest jangle of broken stonewear within the box.

"You broke that set! You're going to have to pay for that."

"It was already broken."

"Oh yea? You were the last one to open that box."

"It was already broken. I'm not paying for something that I didn't break." ANd with that I walked off. I bet she was just some volunteer who was unhappy with her life. That made me feel bad for her and so I didn't want to waste perfectly good mace who woudln't even appreciate what a good story that would have been to have someone spray you with mace. Good Will stores really do make you think.

With my two picture frames tucked under my arm, I walked to the other side of the store where the books resided. There were always interesting things there including dated issues of National Geographic and dusty records with pictures of ghost rock stars with mustaches and long hair.

To be continued,..