A Doozy of a Dream

Life at a thrift store, like anywhere else, can be a bit stressful. There are days when I come home a bit wound up, frazzled, tired, or jumpy, but Chuck says he doesn't worry unless work starts creeping into my dreams.

Well boy did it! And in one of those dreams that makes him joke about putting a psychiatrist on speed dial.

As some of you know, I sort and price housewares, which means pulling open boxes and bags of dishes, vases, stuff like that, all day long. In my dream they put several large black trashbags on the table in front of me. Inside there were tangles of floggers, paddles, iron spreader bars and corsets snarled around each other. Over in the furniture section, the truck drivers were rolling in a St. Andrew's cross.

Now I'll admit the scenario is far fetched, but not as much as you might think. A few weeks ago I did find-- and purchase-- an item that is obviously a purpose made paddle, and a little while before that there was a quirt/whip that came through. Fortunately it was coiled up with a little toy saddle, some gaudy ribbon and a leather tag saying "Mexico" so no one else really noticed what it was. A few years back I bought a large oak paddle in another thrift shop in the area, too, so occasionally such things do come through.

I doubt we'll get anything that blatant. At least I think I hope not. But it does make me wonder just what I would do if such a thing did happen...