When your husband of nearly 18 years says "Honey, I heard on the radio about this huge antique sale thing today. Did you want to go?"
The answer is YES!
Then, when you get back you can wonder where your husband actually is and what this body snatcher has done with him. Because my husband would never in a million years suggest to go looking at an antique store, flea market, yard sale, etc. He believes its a form of torture.
I'm still wondering what actually came over D that it was his idea to go. Even crazier still is that last weekend, he wanted to again.
I may be bringing him over to the dark side.
I hit the sale with a purpose: I wanted a chair and some type of end table.
But the first thing I saw was this:
I'm not really a jewelry person, but recently I've come to adore chunky necklaces. This one definitely needed to come home with me. And since I don't normally ask for jewelry, D had no problems agree to the purchase.
We spent the next couple of hours going back and forth trying to find some goodies that really spoke to me.
Hello, please take me home and love me. And paint me. Promise me you will never ever stick a lamp back in that hole. Then, I will be yours.
I'll be sure to share the makeovers later this week. And D is pretty happy there is one less room to repaint. Since the orange is staying.