Up far, far too early this morning, attempted to go back to sleep with no success, up then for the day. It's 7:15 AM.
First stop the Hillhurst Flea Market - an OK day, found a antique/vintage desk lamp, just needs a plug, but I seem to need lighting as the only time I'm ever home is very late in the evening.
And leaving the flea market, walking east along 5th Ave I come across somebody hammering in an "Estate Sale" sign, and so I pop in to check it out. Main floor, nothing, upstairs, nothing, then downstairs and what should I find but....
A vintage oak bookshelf, complete with original glass, deeper than some other ones I possess and in far, far better condition. $30.00. A steal. There's a dealer downstairs, he's seen it but can't seem to tear himself away from the "free" bin and so I quickly spring upstairs and close the deal.
The dealer, he's annoyed, but what can you do? He offers me $50.00. Uh-huh. I'm not quite as stupid as you, buddy, but I'm too polite to observe it. (on top you can sort-of-see the lamp.). He tells me to name my price, but I kinda think that it would be rude to profit so obviously from the deal, in the very house where I bought it. And his initial lowball offer rather offended me. And besides, I actually read books (when I have time....) and maybe, just maybe I'll put some books in it. It sure beats the hell out of the Ikea shelving I have.
I think that I'm going to leave it there, go and have some breakfast (I'm oddly hungry) before coming back for it, but the dealers, they're descending like flies, we're right next door to the Hillhurst Flea Market after all, and I think better of it and decide to run it home first. You know dealers, they'll peel the "Sold" sign right off it and try and buy it again. Or they'll come up with an offer too good to refuse and it won't be there when you get back.
Now I have to cart it out of the cellar, which is easy, just a few trips, and then place it on the lawn while I figure out how to get it home.
I call a cab, wait 10 minutes, cab shows up but tells me it won't fit in his cab and promises me to call a van.
Yellow cab, if you're interested.
Naturally he doesn't, all the while I'm sitting there with my find and other dealers - Ju-Ju dealer from the antiques and collectables sale the week before (complained about "too many dealers") shows up, congratulates me, offers to buy it...
I had 5 offers before the next cab shows up. You know you've done well when people want to buy your treasure before you even get it home.
Eventually I get fed up and call again and this time the cab comes and we get it home.
Now it's about 10:30 and I still haven't had breakfast and I've been up since 6:45 and I'm thinking it's time to nap, and so I call the boy to ensure he's coming over and when he'll get here, actually, he wasn't planning on coming over but since I called ....
I try for a nap in the gap, no luck, hornets keep flying into the house and buzzing and banging tap-tap-tap on the window. It's futile.
And the boy comes over and we catch up, we can't go out as I'm expecting someone to come and take a peek at my Haunted Antique Table for sale, they don't show in the end and so we take some pictures of the chairs (the next big sale item, working on copy, not as long or as involved as the lamp or the table...)
Left >> Fine pair of matching vintage wingback chairs for sale.
Then we head into Kensington to forage for some lunch. We try out Charlie Chan's, I've never been, there's a reason...Typical Chinese-western cuisine. I'll regret it I'm sure. Then down the stroll, check a few of the shops in Kensington, not looking for anything in particular, just looking, the new age shop, card shop, hippy shops, we pop into the drug-pipe shop just so I can improve the boy's street credibility, then home via Amato Gelato.
He's picked up by his mom and I pass out for 3 hours on the bed. Not a good 3 hours, it's too hot, more a zombie-like state of not-quite asleep but definitely not awake.
Evening.
Now it's about 9:00 and I pack my book and head down to the river. It's a beautiful night, I should enjoy it, when do I get to see the evenings, ever. And the book, 30 pages to finish it and I want it to be done, it wasn't bad but ... well, it's not calling me, and so I just sit on the bench and watch the sun set.
Not from there, you can't see it, but you can see the rays coming up the valley and lighting the lower trees, dark green against the pale hills of COP, the air is cool, the evening perfect. And so you just sit, 30 minutes, watching the people pass, an hour, just watching, just being.
This is how it should be. But tomorrow it'll be the job and 1000 other mindless and crucial errands, there are rumors I may have to move again, there are summer vacation plans to be organized, finalized, there is the possibility that I need a car and there's the certainty that I need a job, need a life, and so around and round it goes again...