Bargain Time

Lisa was here and gone in the blink of an eye! New guests arrive tomorrow to be picked up at 5pm from the bus station. In the two days of no-guests buffer zone we have had a triumph of bargain-hunting. Saturday morning we left the house with one goal only - to comb the op-shops for an electric fan. Usually when we leave the house on a Saturday morning it's to do washing, go shopping, go swimming, get a coffee, read the paper, hit Bunnings and stop at any garage sale we see. So, to set off with one goal was strangely invigorating. We didn't end up finding a fan, but other, better-er things.

For ages I've been itching to get to the big op-shop at the other end of town. There is one near it where I got a great standard lamp two weeks ago (painted electric blue - but I plan to change that); but I had a good feeling about this particular one. Last time I was in Melbourne I went to Myer to look at Food Processors. (This tangent ties in, I promise.) For two reasons; one, because I have a $100 Myer voucher and two, because M is getting very tired of making me pesto using our blender and the poky end of the wooden spoon. It's not the blenders fault - it's just designed for making cocktails, not greenly edible delight. So. I found a food processor in the Wonder-OpShop. Almost fell through the floor with glee. It was a whole eight dollars. I took it to the register. It had a yellow sticker on it. This meant, the lady confided, that it was actually four dollars. Jesus wept. I grasped it to my bosom, or thereabouts.

M exited the Wonder-OpShop clutching an old Sunbeam chunky toaster. Our toaster has worked beautifully since the day we bought it from a deceased estate garage sale in Williamstown - but no one could call its 'distressed melted plastic' look endearing. I tried to explain to M that I have spent the last eight years carting my own old Sunbeam chunky toaster from house to house, as it works intermittently and looks so chrome plated and sexy that I can't bear to get rid of it. He ignored me. Got his new one home and it behaves exactly the same as mine does - intermittently....

Anyway - we just tried out the Four Dollar Food Processor out on a bagful of basil-goodness. Magical. It was made to create pesto. In fact, it was so much better than the 'blender and the stick' method that M and I both looked at it, astounded by the wonder of the technology that had, until now, passed us by. And now we get to spend the Myer voucher on something cool!

So...you would assume that the bargain day was over. No way. On the way home we went to the recycle shop that adjoins the tip. There is always an abundance of freaky stuff there, but this time... this time our wishes were surpassed. I found a back seat for our HiAce van! This is extremely cool because it means that from now on, when we have more than one person visiting, we don't have to cruise everywhere in the Humber (which I like to keep for special occasions). It fits perfectly.

The way you pay for stuff at this place is to look for the guy holding an excercise book. He is the man that conducts the sales. So we track him down and take him to the seat I found. He looks thoughtful.
"It's in pretty good condition..."
I hold my breath. If he says more than $30, we're toast.
"How's six bucks sound?"
I marry him on the spot and we fly to Vegas....
No. Actually, M and I look tres cool and say casually, "Oh, that'd be fine." While v.uncasually scrambling for our wallets. Not only a seat, but a baby capsule as well. (It is at this point, if my mother ever read my blog, that I would instruct her not to get excited...I digress). Mung and Rach are bringing Luka, who is almost five months, and I said I'd hire them a baby capsule if I could. So I'm hoping they will be wildly impressed by the fact that we bought two, perfectly good ones super cheaply. Of course M and I have no idea how to fit it or anything, and I'm sure that our neighbors are completely submerged in rumours of their own invention after seeing M and I standing in the front garden pondering the baby capsules with expressions of blank incomprehension.