Tired of seeing Lucite candles every time you check the blog? How ’bout we change that to 5 men loading a slate pool table onto a pickup?
Tiffany (The Cranky Queen) and I conducted an estate sale last weekend. We’d worked on it since the last of March. It was quite an undertaking. This dear lady loved shopping. She had been heard to say that when she died, she wanted the hearse to circle Wal-Mart’s parking lot. But Big Lots seemed to be her favorite. And did I say she loved to shop? I mean she really loved to shop. It was one of her main joys in life. Reading was another. There were what seemed like millions of books. Everywhere. In closets, under beds, in book cases, in boxes in the basement.
The sale was a huge success. She had so many friends who came by just wanting something of hers to remember her by. Of course there were dealers and people out shopping for their own homes. One precious young lady walked in the door and asked if we had a refrigerator. Of course we did! It ran, too. It was awfully grody, but she said her husband was out of work and they’d been without a refrigerator for over 2 months. Grody could be cleaned. She was so excited to get the refrigerator at a price she could afford. Another lady’s son had cleaned out her house while she was in the hospital. He got carried away and got rid of most of her clothes and household goods and she was having to replace all this stuff. It might have sounded suspicious, but she was elderly, could barely get around and seemed constantly out of breath. We had to grin when she brought her boyfriend back the next day and said he was staying in the car because he could barely walk. Then there was the scalawag who knew my uncle. Now, I love my uncle. He’s a fun, funny fellow. But that one thing made me not trust this guy. And sure enough. After he talked us into letting him have all the shoes that were left, 51 pair of black flats, I can’t believe I didn’t get a picture, for half price, and I bagged them all up for him, he got out of there without paying for them. I’d told him several times he still owed for the shoes, and suddenly, he was gone. Then we hear that he was at a flea market the very next day with all those shoes lined up in his booth.
Now. The pool table. It was a 1960’s, slate pool table that had been in the basement since it was new.
It was sold quickly the first morning. They would come back another day to get it. Our husbands really didn’t want to have anything to do with moving it, but said they’d be there. Ricky, my husband, had done some research on how best to move a pool table, but that would involve taking the felt off. Something at least one of the other guys didn’t want to do. So they moved it whole.
I wish I’d been there taking pictures the whole time. Wish I knew what “uh oh” was about and what the loud bangs were, but I only went down there and got pics of them loading it onto the pickup.
I’d love to know the end of this story. Did they get it off the truck in one piece?
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