I love shopping at Goodwill Stores.
You know what I don’t love?
Finding books that were given to my children as gifts from grandparents or others sitting on the top layer of a shopping cart … at the Goodwill Store where they were donated. Followed by buying those books BACK again . (They were gifts in the first place, so I really got screwed!)
(Cue the sad music.)
I get it. The twins are packrats.
Two weeks ago, we loaded up boxes and garbage bags full of unwanted/unplayed with shit from their room and the toy room in the basement. (It was started to resemble an episode of “Hoarders: Buried Alive.”)
Many of the items that were placed in the “Goodwill” pile I saw with my own two eyes. Eyeless dolls, wheel-less cars and random Lego pieces. (Good enough to be saved in my opinion and donated to Goodwill.) Others, I wanted to keep – a monkey my Godmother gave our oldest after he was born and a barn my dad made with a name etched on the roof. Those, those are keepsakes.
Why didn’t my husband take the time like I did to go through each item before chucking it aside? Why didn’t he give a rat’s ass about the books? Why didn’t he CARE?
Because to him, the two books were shit.
The only time I hone my packrat skills is when it comes to items that hold significant value – such as books that were given as gifts by grandparents or others who took time to write notes or signed “Happy 3rd Birthday KK!”
So, perusing Goodwill the other day, in search of books to take on our 12-hour joyride to the Outer Banks, I heard a tiny voice behind me.
“MOM … this is MINE!” the voice told me.
I thought she had discovered one more stuffed animal she cannot live without.
But no, she was holding the book with her name in it.
“Where did you find that?” I asked her.
“In THAT cart!” she told me.
Son of a bitch!
Low and behold, I found another one-of-a-kind book sitting on top – one that was autographed to my oldest son in 2004 from an Ohio-based children’s book author.
It even said, “Dear Ethan …”
I snapped a photo of the two books and sent them to my husband.
“I didn’t do that,” he wrote back.
Um … someone did.
KK then insisted that we “tell the lady that those were her items.”
I did tell the cashier, but she didn’t care. She’s in the business to make money, not save memories.
Her gain was our loss.
Ten books and $4.99 later the two became ours … AGAIN (plus eight extra for the impending never-ending road trip).
I wonder if he’d have the same response if I “accidently” tossed his old baseball collection into the Goodwill bag?
Never mind, I am saving those … to be cashed in for our trip to Hawaii.
Guess being a packrat comes with a few advantages …