Days of the Leek

The worst thing about buying clothes at a thrift store is that nothing’s ever in your size—and if it is, it has someone else’s sweat stains all over it—and if it doesn’t, then at the very least it’s covered in old cat hair.

The best thing about it is this shirt, period. I think my favorite part is the vegetables’ expression; they don’t look like they’re excited about Friday. They look anxious, like they’re supposed to give an oral presentation on Friday and they kinda wanna get it over with, but they also don’t feel super prepared and wanna go over their notes 50 more times. The carrot is actually stress-shaking over it. I love this shirt.

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A Gift That You Can Never See

As I’m learning, there are two kinds of estate sales: those, like the one I went to a couple of weeks ago, where everything’s set up more or less like a typical yardsale, with items priced and arranged tastefully, and professional sellers buzzing about just delighted with the prospect of helping you buy their things.

Then, there’s ones like the one I went to today. Look at your home, right now. Notice how you have everything arranged. Notice how everything’s set up. Very personal. Very cozy. That’s how this place was set up—which is to say, it wasn’t set up at all. Nothing was priced; nothing was arranged neatly on tables. It was as if the owners had gone on vacation, and in the meantime the most enterprising robbers of all time took it over and tried to sell everythingIt made me feel weird and creepy. 

I didn’t buy anything, although I did find this—on a table they set up in the front yard, to display the most choice merchandise:

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