Last week, after two surprisingly long parenting days (the teeth. it's those teeth!), Steve arrived home from work with a demand of "Go!". "Go thrift, go to the yarn store, go get a latte, whatever you want....just Be Gone With You." Certainly I get my fair share of 'time' on a regular basis, but this day was above and beyond, and I was Oh So Grateful for the kick out the door.
So I did all three. Latte. Yarn Store. and Thrift. Little bits of happiness at each stop. And at the very last thrift stop, in the very back corner, I stumbled on this goodness that instantly made my heart leap and sing (oh, you know what I'm talking about). A bin full of vintage upholstry fabrics with plenty o' yardage on each roll. 99cents a roll, baby. I gobbled up as much as I wanted with much glee, and headed to the counter full of that happy "this is going home with ME!" thrifting feeling. And then. AND THEN. The woman at the checkout says to me, 'Oh! These! I can't believe there are any of these left! Gosh, we had SO many a week ago, but they've just been flying out of here!".
Sink. Gasp. The twitching begins.
"Really?" I whine, running through my head the list of my fellow Portland thrifters who must have seen these. (And not told me! waah!!). And then, thrift greed sets in (ooh...imagining what the fabrics might look like...the ones in someone else's house now!). And then thrift regret (I *knew* I should have stopped in on Saturday. So what if I had three kids with me, and no time?).
Luckily, I (mostly) snapped out of that silly cycle before I got to the car, happily carrying my six bolts of pretty vintage fabric that cost me $6 and imagining all the possibilities for them. New curtains? totes? sharing some yards? a skirt? duvet cover?