I Didn't Tell You About The Cot

Yesterday I posted a really dodgy photo of the new (to me) vintage cot I bought at the estate auction. But I didn't tell you how it got home.

Ah yes, there's a story there friends.

Initially Matt was fine with my purchases. After all, he was home with the smalls, and really had no idea what I was up to. Well, maybe he had some idea, given I am the woman who goes out for milk and comes home with a new cupboard - 'hey look what I found on the side of the road!'.

By the time we went to pick up our goodies it was dark. I had also managed to snaffle a gorgeous table, four chairs and a stool for the bargain price of 50 clams. It was their breakfast table and is now totally and utterly continuing the love-in with us as our new desk (seen in yesterday's post).

Back to business, Matt was hmphing and pmphing about - under the guise that he was not pleased with the amount of stuff I had successfully bidded on. But who could be unhappy with paying $5 for that cute little cradle, and the cot, and a huuuge Emmalunga pram (that I don't want). And the other random stuff shoved into that vintage cot that I had to WHEEL ALL THE WAY HOME BY MYSELF WITH AN IRONING BOARD ON TOP IN THE DARK.

Did you just read that last sentence again? No, no need, you read it right. Yes. Me. In the dark pushing a cot around deepest, darkest suburbia by myself like some crazy cot/trolley lady. I was praying I wouldn't see anyone. But you know, of course I would. A man walking his dog. I was surprised he didn't cross the road to avoid me. Cars drove past with lights blazing and I am sure they slowed. I know they slowed.

Inside houses, people could hear this strange, faint clickety-clack while they were watching Sunday night TV. It was me. Me and the cot. Of course Matt was nowhere to be seen. He was at home (HMPH!) waiting for me. And that's what husbands of junkers do.

However, this came home a few weeks ago. And it wasn't by my hands. Nope. Someone else who has legs long enough to reach the pedals in the car picked this up from the side of the road and brought it home for me. It wasn't the Doctor. Nor was it Tiny. Can you guess who's got the bug?

My Creative Space

Let's use the term 'creative' very loosely for my space at the moment. There's not a whole lot of creative going on here, unless you count wordsmithing.

So we have my teacup; my tools of choice - my laptop and the phone; the remote control; a 'Sorry We Missed You' courier card - even though I was here the whole time; my diary; a crumpled receipt; my work notebook; the Doctor's artwork over yonder in the corner; some cookbooks; and of course, what creative space would be complete without talcum powder?

Truth be, the talcum powder sits at my right hand ready to dust onto those pesky ants that keep invading. Clearly, they've still not got the message.

Speaking of pesky invaders, this is the cot I bought at the estate auction. I've just discovered it's got borers. Any way to get rid of those unwanteds? (sorry for the dodgy garage photo).

Nip on over to Kootoyoo to check out who else is playing today!

Sold! To The Lady With The Voice.

This was my name last weekend. 'The lady with the voice.' I went to my first estate auction. 600 lots of pre-loved goodies. 600 lots. Count 'em. Do you know how long this took. All. Day. Talk about dedicated.

Along with being known as 'the lady with the voice' I was also known as 'the lady with the red and white hat', but I prefer having a voice. I was way up the back (in the cheap seats) bidding on whatever anyone else didn't want (read: looking for bargains of the vintage kind).

One of the lots I managed to snaffle was a vintage cot - but was really a whole lot of goodness to the sweet tune of - wait for it - wait for it - $5.

$5!

Included in the lot was this ridiculously cute dolly cradle that Tiny thinks might be her new bed. While she is sorely mistaken, it is a cute beddy bed for her dolly, though Tiny has beaten her to it and is lying in it in anticipation for her own bed time.

Apologies for the blurry photos but it's difficult to negotiate lying still with a 14 month old with arms and legs a-flapping.

PS - It's Mrs Bug and Pop's birthday today. Go on over and give her some birthday wishes. She's had a big week doing this.