True Confessions.
I am not usually a fan of adventures. Spontaneous ones. And isn't that the very definition of adventure?
Well actually, the definition of adventure is:
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1.
an exciting or very unusual experience.
2.
participation in exciting undertakings or enterprises:
the spirit of adventure.
3.
a bold, usually risky undertaking; hazardous action of uncertain outcome.
4.
a commercial or financial speculation of any kind; venture.
5.
Obsolete.
- peril; danger; risk.
- chance; fortune; luck.
I get anxious sometimes. I get tired sometimes. I am never sure how I am going to feel. It is part of having a chronic illness. There is great fear of flare ups. That fear: I think I get stuck in ruts.
Wednesday night we had an adventure. One of the perks of being underemployed (hey, I have to find the positive in everything) is that I don't work Monday, Wednesday, or Friday this semester. I am hoping that will lead to another job eventually, but until then I have lovely days to sit and be still and just regenerate. Tangent: I love the word regenerate, it makes me feel all Doctor-ish.
So Wednesday. Jennie, my newish roommate gets home and is ready for an adventure. My old roommate and BFF Evon shows up and suddenly we are on our way to thrift store to check out an old record player stereo. The whereabouts of said thrift store shall remain undisclosed for reasons that will become clear later.
Evon has this great old mini pickup Toyota truck. The three of us squeezed into it: Evon driving, Jennie in the middle holding the vinyl records that we are going to test the stereo speakers with, and me hanging out the passenger side window. There was much giggling and singing and shouting to pedestrians. Shocking behavior really.
The thrift store has the smell of must and dust and disinfectant. It is quite large with non-descript white-ish floor tiles and ceilings with exposed heating and air conduits. The stereo was in the front bank of windows. It was seven o'clock at night and so the sun was beating in the west facing windows with a vengeance. The stereo was the classic seventies style wood job, weighing a ton, and tricked out with lattices, decorative hardware, and only one functional purpose: house the innards of the record player. We were quickly informed that that was NOT a stereo. It was a vintage 1974 hi-fi with a brand new stylus and AM/FM radio. We were informed by the thrift shop guy. During the whole transaction, he was ubiquitous and perspiring. A nice enough fellow with a lot of detailed superfluous knowledge about antiquated things. He boasted that he was more into movies, but when he was younger he was into the vinyl scene before the Hipsters ruined it. Since he couldn't have been much older than I, this discussion became weird very quickly.
I was just being nice. I mean, I am a nice person. When a person speaks to me, I try to politely engage. This polite engagement was taken a go-ahead for some very awkward attempts at flirting.
Thrift-Store Guy: So, you two ladies roommates or . . . .
Me: Yeah, we are roommates.
Thrift-Store Guy: So do you live around here in these student complexes?
Me: . . . . ?!
Jennie: No, we live in a house clear in South Provo.
Thrift-Store Guy: Well, if you ladies take this piece, I can deliver it to your doorstep for you. We can just find a truck and I can . . .
Jennie: Well, we have to see if we can get this thing working.
Thrift-Store Guy: makes many declarations that the guy he bought it from said it was in VINTAGE condition and that the stylus is brand new, etc, etc, etc
Me: Oh.
Jennie finally gets it to work. It does sound good. Jennie looks excited as she dances around the Billy Joel. Evon starts singing from across the store, and I sing harmony quietly and bounce around from foot to foot.
Thrift-Store Guy: (goes and turns the music down) We don't want to disturb the other customers. You know, I would be willing to negotiate a price with you if you want to take it. (looks at me).
Me: She is the one buying. (Pointing Jennie)
Evon is looking at books and not so quietly laughing at me and the Thrift-Store Guy's flirting. When he goes to the back of the store, briefly, Jennie teases me that if I put on some charm that we could probably get the hi-fi for twenty bucks.
I am not amused.
My former and current roommates break out into belly laughs.
Thrift Guy comes back, I quickly go to look at the books.
Jennie: I'll take it for $27.50.
Thrift-Store Guy: How about $30.90?
Jennie: (laughing) How about $28?
Thrift-Store Guy: $29.70.
Jennie: Sold! (The asking price was $35.00)
Jennie quickly calls her brother and gets him commit to helping us get it up the stairs of our condo, but the Thrift Store Guy doesn't know it is her brother, so when she ends the conversation with "Bye, I love you." Thrift Store Guy turns all of his unbridled attention on me.
They wheel the 1974 VINTAGE hi-fi, which has wheels!?!, to the door of the store. Jennie goes outside to keep the door open, and leaves me with TSG, who starts to hit on me.
TSG: So do you go to thrift stores a lot? I could . . . . Oh, getting this over the door jamb is going to be difficult.
As he pauses to reposition the gargantuan wooden coffin of a hi-fi, Jennie winks at me from outside and strikes a provocative pose. I shake my head in fear and trembling.
Then the nicest couple walks by and the guy offers to help us get the hi-fi into Evon's truck. From there I just try to avoid TSG and focus on holding the records.
For the rest of the evening Evon and Jennie joke about TSG, who they have christened Thrift Store Beau. Then we talk about the scrapes we have all gotten into with strange people because we are too nice. It is a lovely evening. Twilight falls and there are dragonflies soaring around us. The local Scout troupe has put up American flags for 9/11.
Later as we listen to Dionne Warwick on the Vintage 1974 hi-fi, I realize that it has been a pretty good adventure.
