I heart garage sales.
I’m mad about estate sales too.
Thrift stores make my heart all-a- flutter. The smell of ‘must and old’ make me giddy. As a teen, I used to shop in second hand stores, for my clothes, because I wanted too.
And, I don’t even consider this a problem.
The town I live in is too good for garage sales. The people around here don’t need old things that have been used, heaven forbid.
They are rich.
Even if I was rich, I would still long for the grime of a good sale.
They do have an annual flea market. It’s their compromise to help people in less fortunate places, to come and glean from our fine things.
Well. I go. Of course. Just the other day, as a matter of fact.
I found some great stuff. I’m actually on home decor probation, so I shopped for my kids.
As I combed the sale, I looked for something I could take home that would be fun.
And boy, did I find it: A complete (new in the box, to boot) CSI Crime Investigation Kit, complete with finger printing. Retail Value $99.00 I got it for $8 bucks.
My kids were over the moon. And, I was pretty sure I was the best mom e-ver.
They were occupied for hours, you know creating crimes and then solving them. It was a hoot.
I enjoyed it until they brought this out.
Oh yes, this kit came with a special light that detects liquid or bodily fluids, as my daughter stated.
I know. Just typing that made me shiver.
They donned their plastic gloves and protective eye gear and went to work.
ON MY HOUSE.
This is what I heard, over and over, “Oooooh! Gross. Look at that.”
“Oh, what til you see this! That is disgusting.”
It went on and on. And then it dawned on me: They are not pretending.
Surely that toy light is not detecting something in my house?
And then I heard this, “She really needs to clean this house.”
I jumped up and did some of my own investigating.
I found my two punks in their bathroom hovering over ‘evidence.’
“Alright, alright, let me see,” I said and grabbed the light.
“GAAASSSP!” I shone the light onto the wall and exposed pee pee in a sprinkled pattern.
I held it over the commode and yep, you guessed it, little illuminated dots.
“See, we told you,” they said in unison. “You really outta do something about this,” my daughter demanded.
I handed her the light and returned a few minutes later with an array of cleaning supplies.
“This is a true investigation. Clues are pointing to you.” I handed them a rag and said, “Since you’ve got your rubber gloves on, it’s time to clean up this crime scene.”
Not so much the best mom e-ver anymore from the look on my kids faces, but their bathroom glistened.
At least until someone had to potty again.