Hello again, alleged readers. I’m told that the proverbial “They” have said in the past that “there is a first time for everything”. While I would never find it incumbent upon myself to challenge They on matters of this or that; I think that They might be mistaken. No matter how long of a timeline our collective existence on this planet is afforded, I would venture to say that we have not, and will not, experience the first time, or any time, that a sentient, Dutch-speaking, Ficus plant, bursts forth out of my refrigerator on a small bicycle proclaiming the health benefits of thumb wars and the abolishment of Tuesdays. Ironically enough, I thought this happened once, but it was actually just a piece of lint stuck in my eye. As such, I would submit to They that They amend their statement to state, “There is a first time for some things”. If enough of you also contact They, maybe we, and not the Royal We, might see some much-needed movement on the matter.
Not that there’s anything wrong with the Royal We, per se.
Recently though, I did get to experience a first of my own! I attended a garage sale. Boy howdy was it sure just a sensational time! I can’t, and would not, tell you what to do; but if you’ve never been to a garage sale, I would venture to say that you are living a life devoid of purpose and fulfillment. After having attended this garage sale, I feel, in my core, that I suddenly have both purpose, and fulfillment. And now I propose to fill you in on my time at the garage sale.
I got there early. I understand that in garage sale culture being an early bird is absolutely critical to becoming a quality garage sale attendee. Well, let me tell you, I was there before the birds were even up. No matter for Ol’ Stav though, I’m usually up and hitting my stride for the day square in the middle of the night. The garage door was of course closed, betraying the exclusivity of the event itself. Fortunately, I knew enough, even without ever having attended one of these before, that I’d need to crawl through the open window on the side of the garage. Once I worked my way inside, I was simply astonished at the breadth of wares for sale within this palatial garage. Everything was so neatly organized in bins, ready for the highest bidder. After spending a couple dozen minutes perusing the options before me, I settled on purchasing a book. I didn’t want to come off as some purchase-happy yahoo, uninitiated to the finer points of a gala affair such as this. Not being much of a reader, or really a reader at all by most definitions of the word “reader,” I decided to select what I thought would be some light and accessible literature to ease into this reading business.
With no other bidders present to up the ante, I left about four dollars’ worth of coins wrapped neatly in a paper-towel placed on the hood of the vehicle in the garage, and returned from whence I came. Upon returning home, I discovered that the book that I believed to be Canadian author Maurice Sendak’s Little Bear was actually Canadian author Marian Engel’s Bear. Nevertheless, I will not let my beginner’s bungle thwart my excitement. Despite having only just started, I am determined to finish this book. Perhaps in some future correspondence, dear alleged reader, I will provide a review of the book!
Until then, I hope to see you at a garage sale sometime soon!