Oh No You Didn't.

You either like them or you don't. You either think they are a waste of time and energy or you don't. You can find a deal or you can't. You think junk is junk or you don't. You know what I am talking about, don't you?

Garage sales.

Um, hi, I love them. Last Friday night I could hardly sleep because I was so excited to get up and go. All. by. myself. early in the morning to find deals. But it is not just the deal that makes it oh, so exciting. It's the smell of Saturday morning when everyone else is sleeping (except for fellow garage salers). The dew on your flip flops. The hot cup of coffee [Oh, wait I didn't have coffee. More on that later.] The thrill of noticing someone else is eyeing the same thing and you happen to snag it first. [This totally happened to me last Saturday.] The idea that garage saleing is actually a form of recycling. And I love to think about the history of the item I buy. Who used it? How was it used? You get the idea.

Garage sales are just plain cool.

I bought this sweet vintage blue laundry basket for $2. Don't be jealous. I know you are. I am using it to store fabric in it.

As much awesomeness I find. There are occasionally those duds. And this is where the Oh No You Didn't comes into play.

A garage saler puts a lot of trust in the seller. And if you can't trust the seller, you don't buy. Like those sellers that make a living out of it. Selling everything. Every weekend. They even have a professional sign made and the garage is organized with every knick knack possible. If you want a purple flying unicorn, go to one of those garage sales. Oh, and they wear the apron with pockets in it to wheel and deal. Drive away fast from these people.

I trusted this one seller. Neighbors with one of my friends. Sweet old couple. Harmless. I bought this Starbucks coffee maker from them for $3. Hello, it made my day. Week even. Sweeeet. I could set my coffee maker to brew automatically in the morning. Yes, please. I pass on the old coffee maker to hubster to take to work. Gone. Vanished. He is set at work. I am set at home. Or so I think.

Monday morning rolls around. Of course, I am happy to wake up at 7:30. I have a new-to-me Starbucks coffee maker. Coffee in. Press button. Press button again. And again. Oh no you didn't sell me a dud.

I took it back to the house that I bought it from and set it on their porch with a note on it that read "Thanks for the broken machine. You are really nice people."

Okay, I didn't really do that. But I wanted to. And still thinking about it. Sort of.

One week later: It still sits on my kitchen counter. Teasing me. I am not even sure what to do with it. So it has been Chai tea for me all week. No coffee. Zip. Zero. And I feel it everyday.