My husband loves to go antique shopping even though he is obviously not a middle-aged woman. I on the other hand start sneezing and find myself short of breath every time he suggests we go to an antique store. You might be wondering why a 35-year-old man loves to go to antiquing, because that’s where he says he finds the best silver spoons. Why spoons? Because he’s the most
obsessive perfectionist chef I’ve ever met. The spoons have to be a certain size and have to be made of silver because when he’s tasting the food the material the spoon was made of cannot come in between the flavor of whatever he’s making and his mouth and he can’t buy 2 o 3 he buys 10 or 12 and I don’t understand any of this. So we go antiquing for spoons. The only reason I go with him (besides the fact that I’m his wife and maybe I should) is because he promises we can go for ice-cream after…err take the girls for ice-cream after.
So we drive downtown where there are 4 or 28 antique stores back to back. I panic because I forget to take my allergy pill and I just know something will make me sneeze and cry for no reason, also the drowsy effect helps make the trip a little more bearable. We walk into the first store, yes, we check out more than one place when hunting for spoons. We live a fast paced life, try to keep up. The air is so thick and humid I can’t breathe, oh here comes the first sneeze… followed by 18 more… aaaand my eyes are crying now. This is great. Don’t they open the windows in here?
As my husband slowly patiently scouts for the perfect spoons, I try to keep the girls from shattering the whole place into pieces. “No, you may not pretend you’re having a tea party with this very, very old and probably germ covered tea set”. $30 for a single tea-cup? Unless it was used by Queen Elizabeth and it still has some of her left over tea in it, I don’t think so. Time to go? Yes! Wait, what do you mean you didn’t see any good spoons? How many different kinds can there be?!?! On to the next. Sigh.
“Do you mind if I wait outside with the girls? No? Ok”. Antique store visit #345 wasn’t any better, it was even more crowded than the first one. How do people walk in here without knocking everything down? I pictured myself walking through a maze of lasers, like that French guy breaking into the museum on that Oceans Twelve movie, only I’m not at all flexible, my hands are busy trying to keep the girls from breaking anything breakable and I’m carrying a purse the size of the Grand Canyon. I managed to sit us down on a sofa so old my great-grandmother would’ve probably bought as a vintage piece.
While patiently waiting for my husband to find his beloved spoons, my daughters spot a set of old, I mean, vintage jewelry and ask me if they could buy “something fancy”, unfortunately, no one was going to walk out with anything fancy, but I did manage to entertain them with the most elaborate story as to who those jewels used to belong to. All I know is that a very famous queen that had a Pegasus for a pet used to wear them. That led us to talk about pets, which led us to talk about the absence of a pet in our home, which led us to choose a future pet which we’ll name Lily Pink Sunny Sunshine. We’re still not sure if it’s going to be a puppy, a kitten or a Pegasus. Still deciding.
We walk around for a couple of minutes and I slowly start discovering some stuff worth looking at, maybe antique shopping deserves a second chance.
But then I turn around and see this:
What the hell??? All I know is that I ran from that soul-sucking doll as fast as I could, packed my things and fled the country. Screw antique shops, next time we go to the mall.