My DH and I are in the late stages of negotiation on fencing for the front yard (he wants a fortified ten-foot stockade and I want a 30-inch white picket fence; we're approximately meeting in the middle) and so I am on the hunt for stockade (i.e., solid) board fencing in five-by-eight foot panels with a concave profile on each panel. Nobody seems to sell this; at least, not anybody around here. So, clearly, I need to go to the Community Forklift, but this is a mysterious and fascinating place that lots of people have an interest in seeing, so I think I should go with a group. And my friend who is always game to look for house and antique stuff isn't even answering emails or text messages, because she just had a stupid baby and will never be interesting again.
I even found her a truly fantastic stove on craigslist - she wants electric, so she was going to settle for a reproduction, and I found her an original electric stove from the 1920s with new wiring. For $1450 less than her budget for said item. After she didn't answer that email, I sent it to her husband (because who knows how long this thing will be available, and I bet they really do want to know), and he responded, "Thanks for thinking of us." Which is sweet and all, but it means he didn't open the link. Or probably even read the email.
Well, it's their $1450.
Of course, many of my friends without children have failed to be adequately interesting to go to thrift stores or flea markets with me, which is ALSO boring, but this girl is an antique nut. Was an antique nut. When (if) she resumes her antique-shopping ways, no doubt they will be ordered around breastfeeding and naptime, and if I want to go with her I can expect to have conversations about Chippendale legs and mortise-and-tenon joinery interrupted with neverending Tales of Maternal Bliss, punctuated by Tales of Maternal Woe, punctuated by a screaming infant.
I need to actually start work on befriending the local gay community. I know some of those people are into antiques.