I hail from total scavenger stock. My mother’s father survived the Depression and never got over it. My Pop could stash some stuff away. The TV we used to have (until it conked out) came from my Pop’s house in the Villas, NJ, from his TV room. And by TV room, I mean a side room in the house that had six Ts in it. My Mister and I plugged ’em in until we found one that worked. I think we ended up with TV#4. My mother’s mother’s mother (got it?) lived at Yard Sales and was a sort of yard sale shark, buying cheap and marking up at her own monthly garage sale. But Pop kept me equipped in sewing stuff – better scissors, boxes of buttons and even a serger. Ditto for Mom-mom Sarnese, only her supplies were more like sparkly pins and giant beads. Love them both, though I think they didn’t like each other.
Saturday night, I found myself grabbing empty OB bottles off the table at Korean BBQ so my Mister can use them for the beer he’s been making all winter. And all week, I’ve been walking off with cartons of discarded cigar boxes – beautiful wooden boxes from the Dominican Republic with real hinges and all – from the cigar shop on the corner. Guess the lads are cleaning house or something.
Some will be shared with lady friends, some will stash supplies around the house in a manner a tad nicer than shoe boxes.