A junk picker.

For a few decades my sister has referred to me as a junk picker. I once saw a bumper stick that said “I stop for curb furniture.” Me too! I prefer to call it Street Merch, but it’s the same thing. I love a good flea market or garage sale. I love sorting through tables for a special find.

So, last weekend my sister and I went to breakfast. We overheard people at the diner talking about a flea market in the area. I did a little digging and found out it was just a block away. She may have rolled her eyes, but she was a good sport and went with me.

I was a bit surprised when I saw her looking, with purpose, through a large container of what looked like Happy Meal toys. She found a small bag of Disney princesses and she looked quite pleased with her find. I found nothing that I just had to have for my own. She made her purchase and we left. As we were walking down the sidewalk she spotted a set of golf clubs and mentioned she needed golf clubs. She removed a club from the bag and took a swing.

Needless to say she paid the $20 and is now the owner of a set of pre-owned clubs.

It has taken a while, but she may have caught the picker bug.

 

 

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