The Other Side of the Tracks

When eBay wasn't doing good for us, we headed to the local flea market on Saturdays. Ours is run-down, dirty, outdoors, and really just falling down around the vendors.

While at the flea market, I missed eBay. On eBay you don't have to deal with people face to face. People don't come by, pick up everything you have, touch everything, just to walk away. Kids don't come along in small groups trying to distract you so they can steal something. Oh, and our home doesn't have dirt floors.

The colder days were miserable. You were willing to pay $1.50 for a small cup of bad coffee and $2.50 for an awful burger just to stay warm.

So there I'd be with my gallon of home brewed full of cream and sugar. I'd sit there shaking, not from the cold but the sugar, and be so hyper that I could run a marathon. But we had to just sit there and wait for that one dude who'd buy enough so we could go home.

And when that weird perverted guy came by, it's not like I just ignore his email--this was face to face and there was no where to go.

A few months ago, we heard on the news there was a fire at the flea market and our barn had burned down. Yes, a barn. The market is made up of barns with rickety, weathered tables seperating each vendor's area. The table we used every weekend burned down. I took it as a sign from God Himself to keep my butt planted in front of our computer each Saturday. Hey, they do say He works in mysterious ways.