Husband Mocks Old Egg Wife Bought at Flea Market, so She Asked Him to Open It– Story of the Day
My husband mocked me for buying a little enameled egg at the flea market, but he was in for a big surprise.
First off, I have to tell you I’m a flea market junkie. I can’t help it, I just love the idea of browsing through the flotsam and jetsom of a hundred lives, and among the discarded trash find a lost treasure.
It all started when I was just eleven and would spend the summers with my grandmother in New England. On the weekends she and I would haunt every flea market or street fair for a hundred miles around, looking for ‘preloved jewels,’ which is what she called her finds.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Let me tell you that even today as a mother and grandmother nothing gets my heart pumping like scrounging through a tray of bits and pieces and finding a glint of something that tells me I’ve struck gold.
My husband doesn’t understand it at all. Sam is a lovely man, sweet, hardworking, but my need to find treasure in the trash is something he just doesn’t understand.
It’s the one thing we clash over, my bringing home ‘preloved jewels,’ or as he calls them, hoarder junk. I suppose it would be easier for me to just give up my little hobby, but I honestly don’t want to.
Nothing gives me as much pleasure as heading for a flea market on the weekend with $20 in my pocket determined to find a Van Goh for 50 cents. So no matter how much Sam rails at me for wasting money and hoarding junk, I won’t give it up.
Not that he has complained about it lately, in fact, this weekend he’s asked if he can come along with me, so let me tell you how this miracle came about
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
About a month ago I headed off to a nearby town for its street fair on a Saturday morning. I was tingling with anticipation, and my bargain-hound senses led me to a modest display where a man was selling knickknacks.
There, among the porcelain cups and bisque shepherdesses was a little porcelain and enamel egg, about the size of a real egg. I admit it wasn’t a particularly pretty or unusual piece, but I wanted it.
“How much for the egg?” I asked the man. He sussed me out with beady eyes. I could feel him taking in my sensible clothes, my handbag, and...