So.
Yesterday, I am hauled off from my coding work to go do assorted household chores, such as plant roses in the front yard (where one of the local strays has already helped 'water' them), and attempt to recover an armoire from the Salvation Army. This was an amusing experience, as armoires are heavy, and, due to "ligitation" issues, no one at SAwould help us move it in any way. It's currently still in the back of a van, awaiting a dolly to get it out and into the house. The seats of the van, meanwhile, are on my porch. Don't ask.
But about SA. I love (in a sick way) going into such places, because there's a certain aura of palpable misery and wonder to them. The more common items, such as books and furniture, are not too interesting (though this particular one had a shopping cart full of copies of Anne Frank's father's book about her, for 0.29. Don't ask me why.), but the other detritus -- household items, electronics, and so on, all seem to tell a story. Whence came this toaster, now lonely and forelorn on the shelves? Was it once a wedding present, brightly wrapped, signaling a new beginning in life, and now moldering away for 1.99? Did it belong to a college student who skirted his dorms "No cooking supplies" laws? Were its origins forgotten, lost in the mists, ultimately dumped here when cleaning out the home of some old lady who died as lonely and isolated as the toaster itself? No one will ever know...
Vinyl records stacked haphazardly against each other, adding new scratches as theyre jostled by curious teens wondering when CDs were big and black. Random bits of the "Left Behind" books. Phones with the weight and shape of bricks; printers with the weight and shape of Volkswagon Beetles. A television with an analog UHF and a separate analog VHF dial. Dials! Remember those? Alas, no computers. CPUs are verboten at the SA, since they might contain pr0n. Collectors of classic antique systems, seek elsewhere.
And, of course, the furniture. At some point in human history, a putatively sane adult, a man who worked in design and marketing, said to himself: "What the world needs, really needs, right now, is a set of kitchen chairs with narrow backs, cheap vinyl covering over cheap styrofoam padding, all done up in paisley -- dark dingy brown paisley!" Even more amazing, someone, somewhere, looked upon these chairs, and said, "This is what I want in my kitchen!" Then, sometime later, everyone involved came to their senses and they ended up here, one step ahead of the trash heap. It's as if the Salvation Army is a kind of Purgatory, a place things go if they aren't quite useless enough to simply toss out but are not good enough to reincarnate to new owners via eBay.
And, yes, I am mixing Catholic and Hindu theology. So sue me.
Comments (2)
"ligitation" something to do with ligaments?
I don't ask much, but if there is a Good Will in your area you could you use them instead? Salvation Army is anti-gay.