I was supposedly on my way to Costco and another grocery store today. I went out last night and I was pretty fuzzy headed and didn't really make much of a list, mostly because whenever I start making a grocery list I realize that everything that I'm writing on the list is the same thing I always buy. Milk, eggs, cheese, lettuce blah blah blah. So, I set off, unenthusiastically, to the various stores where I would have to buy a shit load of stuff and then pack it and get gas then go home and unpack it and clean the refridgerator out to make room for all of the new junk. As soon as I left my house I thought to myself "I am going to just pop into the thrift store".
that's funny- pop in - because that is a total lie I tell myself. When I go with Louise we set a time limit- usually 45 minutes to shop. But I decided that rather than a time limit, I would limit the types of things I was allowed to look at. Curtains and storage containers. And that's it, maybe a quick swipe through the dishes and dresses. And bags. But Curtains and Storage.
A few weeks ago when I was at the thrift store I found a perfect Eureka four person Timberline tent.
Going to the thrift store when called to do so is something I pay attention to. Today I walked directly to the are where the tent was a few weeks ago and found a hot pink Samonsite Fashionaire suitcase with a pink polkadot lining. There were a few problems with this otherwise amazing suitcase. One, minor, the two little turning clasps that keep the liner closed over your clothes was broken from use. So this was a suitcase that saw a lot of travel. The second problem, which most rational humans would consider to be not only a major problem but also a deal breaker, is that there appeared to be a large blood stain inside of the suitcase. I am not rational though, and have mentioned before that I am often spoken to by inanimate objects, like houses and suitcases. My mind began racing.
This is a hot pink suitcase from the 70's, with a pink polka dot lining and a sticker from a hotel in Austria inside. There is a half of a tag on the handle with the name "Rosa" and half of an address, and half of a phone number. This was the suitcase of a woman who traveled. A woman who traveled in the 70's and 80's and apparently committed or was the victim of some kind of bloody crime. Or perhaps had to make a quick escape with a newborn baby. I had to buy the suitcase, because that suitcase is supposed to be mine. It's big too. Big enough to be a table, and to pack a lot of clothes in. And very cool looking and mostly smelled like some dusty perfume, with a little tang of despair. What's a little old blood?
I bought the suitcase and (after a boring, aggravating trip to the A&G grocery store, which I will most likely never shop at again for reasons which I won't detail at the moment)went home and stripped out the worst of the stained lining. The blood on the spine of the suitcase was still a problem. I mixed up a little potion of vinegar and baking soda and salt and set it all out in the sun. Much to the great amusement of my husband I set a bowl of salt with a stick of nag champa and burning sage inside it and faced the whole works into the sun. I'll replace the lining, and cover the remaining stain with different fabric, and after it's all good, Rosa the hot pink suitcase is going to get packed with clothes to move to the new house, where it will be put out to pasture for the rest of it's days. Whatever excitement that suitcase saw is going to remain a mystery, but I'm pretty happy that this cool thing found it's way to me.
I also found some beautiful peachy pink drapes, but they don't really have anything to say other than "I am drapes".
