Last week Vince and
I went to an auction house in Newark, Ohio. Not because we needed anything, but
simply because our neighbors were going and we thought it would be fun to tag
along after them. It was Vince’s day off and, besides, we had nothing better to
do.
Well, that’s not entirely true. We could easily have
spent the day doing long-neglected chores around the house. Like painting the
trim around the garage. Or cleaning the grout in the shower.
As those particular
chores held less than zero appeal on a sunny Tuesday morning, we hopped in the
car and headed to Newark. Besides, I wanted
to hear an auctioneer talk really, really fast.
I’ve never actually
been to an auction, so I pictured the auctioneer on a raised platform standing
in front of a podium with the crowd below in organized rows so the auctioneer
could see who was bidding.
Ha. People just hover
around the auctioneer and whatever it is he’s selling and somehow or other he
knows who is bidding. There is no podium, no gavel, no raised platform.
Me? I had no clue what was going on.
By the time we
arrived, our neighbors had already purchased several boxes of junk, er, treasures. They only cost a few bucks each, so it’s not
like anyone’s bank was getting broken. But what I didn’t know is that even if you
only want one particular thing in a box, you have to bid on the whole box.
Holy heck – I’m tryin’
to get RID of clutter around my house – not add to it! And I just had a garage
sale a couple months ago that I still haven’t gotten over yet. (For your
information, it takes approximately one year, eleven months and sixteen days to
get over having a garage sale before considering having another one.)
So I was pretty
sure I wasn’t going to be bidding on any boxes of stuff.
On the other hand,
it was kind of fun walking the aisles and looking in all those boxes filled
with trinkets and toys and housewares that once was treasured by someone. There
was a box of copper kitchen tools that attracted Vince – but it was on the very
far wall, which meant that the auctioneer wouldn’t get to that aisle for
several hours. Plus, I have no more room in my kitchen cabinets or drawers for one
more stinkin’ colander or ladle.
I’d be bringing boxes
of junk, er, treasures back to
the auction house just so we could get into the kitchen.
They also have
several auctioneers working at the same time – something else I didn’t
know. So Vince and I wandered outside
where outdoor goods were being auctioned – flower pots and garden decorations and the
like.
While I was
standing there I realized, “This is SO not me!” I’m much more deliberate in my
thinking about the things I want. I have to consider where I’m putting it and
why I would even want such a thing. I
have to consider how much I’d be willing to spend and if it would be a good
addition to our home.
At auctions,
deliberate thinking goes completely out the window. You have to make snap
decisions. Plus, I couldn’t tell who was bidding and how much things were going
for. By the time I decided that, yeah, I would be willing to pay $15 for
something that – new – would cost me at least $100, the item was sold and they
were three items down the line by then.
Yeesh.
I knew that if I
ever tried to bid on anything, I’d probably start bidding against myself. So I
decided to step away from the auctioneer.
I did, however,
tell Vince that there were a couple ceramic pots that I might like. But I was
leaving the wheeling and dealing up to him.
And it was right
about this time that I felt something crawling along my shoulder inside my top.
That is NOT a good feeling. Ever. So I lifted up the neckline of my shirt – and
saw a wasp. There was a freakin’ WASP
inside my shirt!
So I screeched and
with much flapping and flailing of arms and swatting at the thing, I practically
tore my shirt off in order to get the wasp out.
And, yes, I made
quite a spectacle of myself – but I didn’t care. And, surprisingly, I didn’t
get stung.
I was a little surprised, however, that the auctioneer didn't take all that arm flapping as me bidding. I'd have won the tacky garden gnome for sure.
It was just about
this time that I decided that auctions were not my thing, so I headed back
inside to wander the aisles to see if there was anything I’d missed. In truth,
I was really trying to avoid further interactions with stinging insects. And I was sort of hoping to avoid making a further spectacle of myself.
By the time I
walked back outside to see the action, Vince told me he’d bid on (and won) several
items, including a very pretty mint/teal green ceramic pot.
I was thrilled with
it because I could just picture it in our kitchen. We have a plant that has
outgrown its current pot that would fit in it perfectly.
And he spent less
than 20 bucks all told – so that was a “win” in my book!
So, while I had fun
at my first auction, I’m probably not anxious to go back to another one. Too
stressful. Both the bidding thing – and the potentially stinging insect thing.
Maybe next time I’ll
tell you about the other auction I attended recently – the art auction on the
cruise ship (completely different than a household goods auction). All I’ll tell you now is that Vince wasn’t
there to protect me. It was not good that he left me to my own devices.
But at least there
weren’t any wasps.
