Such a simple request, to cause me such difficulties; I can't think of a single thing that I've wanted badly enough to remember wanting it. I love to poke around in other people's stuff, though. OK, so my greedy gene has been neglected; my nosey gene more than compensates. I adore yard sales and resale shops; I can spend hours wondering what someone did with “that thing” if I can figure out what “that thing” is.
Friends love to take me shopping with them. I enjoy every minute of pawing through mounds of anything, but buy very little, which means there's an extra pair of hands to tote their purchases. Also, I'm a bloodhound on the hunt. Just tell me what you're looking for and I'll probably be the one to find it.
All this should mean that I'm not drowning in stuff, right? A resounding WRONG!People give me stuff. Big stuff, little stuff, dishes, electronics, a $350 exercise device (brand new, not unpacked), books, beds, and chairs – OMG, chairs. I have been given recliners, easy chairs, rocking chairs, dining chairs, desk chairs – you name it, mostly by people I don't know and will never see again. Maybe it's the color of my eyes? Or something? Who needs four trailers for pulling behind a bicycle?
There is an up-side to this condition. Recently, the mail brought a circular from a local jeweler. Now, I was in the jewelry business and I love bling, to look at. I haven't felt acquisitive toward any jewelry since I got that peach tourmeline ring back in the 1980s. However. There on the cover was a sterling, hinged, bangle bracelet, with a buckle motif on the top side and 37 tiny diamonds peeking out of the faceted silver mesh. It was love. I salivated. I put the circular down. I picked it up. The advertised price was $225 reduced (through all manner of discount legerdemain) to just $55 (about what I felt was a fair price). I couldn't believe I was so in lust with a piece of bling and continued to dither for several minutes. When I looked up I realized both parents were watching my antics, with great interest. I put the thing down, feeling somewhat embarrassed, and left the room.
I didn't give the matter much thought, until a week later. At dinner, there was a gift box at my place. Inside was my bangle, every bit as seductive as I remembered it.
“We never see you wanting anything, so we knew you had to have this,” my mom said.
I haven't had it off, since.