Frugal Friday {The Trunk}

One (of the three) perks of moving to Florida, is the TRASH. Yes, trash. People will place interesting trash stuff by their trashcan which makes driving around a lot of fun. That Toyota Camry that breaks at every object beside a trashcan? That's me.

Not in seven hundred years did I think that I would write the above paragraph. Close to twenty years ago (t-w-e-n-t-y let that sink in...) you would've found me DYING of humiliation and shame as I scooted further and further down in my seat of our wood paneled station wagon while my Mom perused trash piles in front of houses. I didn't know (or care) at the time, but she found some pretty nice things including furniture pieces that my Dad has "hauled all over the United States" (his words, paraphrased, from this morning on the phone).

They told me it would happen. I've turned into my mother.

The big difference is that I'll only stop if I know that I can grab it and go, mostly going unseen. My Ma, on the other hand, probably WANTED to be seen by the family so she could get all the details on the family history and before you could blink twice either my Ma or the homeowner (or both) would be crying and sipping tea together on the sidewalk.

Thankfully my thumb sucking toddler in the backseat is still too young to be embarrassed, but I'm guessing that day will come. And when it does, I'll pat her on the shoulder and say in a gentle voice, "Honey, at least we're not riding in a wood paneled station wagon..."

So there I found myself yesterday, driving home from bible study. I had already slowed and braked once for "just a pile of real trash" when I SAW IT. An old trunk. My Ma had two of them and I knew she'd be freaking out if she were with me. (moment of silence) I gave myself a pep talk, put on my sunglasses and turned the car around. The thing turned out to be MASSIVE and as I tried to lift it into my car I had two thoughts: 1) I probably shouldn't be doing this in my condition  and 2) There is no way this thing is fitting in my car. But still, I persisted.

I was so caught up in my work that I didn't notice when a beat up, red pick up truck stopped until a man came over and said Spanish-ly, "Hey we can try to help!" This was A) A relief and B) Totally embarrassing because I was drawing all sorts of attention to myself. It also didn't help that the guy only had one arm. Umm... But his buddy had two! We tried the back seat, we tried the trunk. All to no avail. They offered to hide it in the woods so I could come back later (Really nice guys, and not sketchy like it may sound). I declined, thanked them and we were all on our way.

Give up that easy? NO WAY.
I did take a picture to show my Mom, in case it was gone. Trash Treasures move fast around here!

I drove home and grabbed a blanket and straps, drove back to the church and placed them on the hood of Kent's car (hint hint) I called to explain the whole story to him and hoped that he'd "finish up a few things" soon. I didn't beg or plead because I only wanted to be a half crazy wife. About 15 minute later I got this text. I was bummed out, but told myself, "It wasn't meant to be. Maybe he's joking? No, he doesn't joke. It wasn't meant to be, move on."

But then... he showed me THIS picture

The lady that pulled up when he did? He told her, "My wife called and told me that I had to pick this up." And she drove off. 'Atta boy!! ...And now there is a trunk sitting in my garage. 

The End