There was a certain furniture store in a nearby town. This store was one I rarely visited, unless I wanted to dream big. It had three floors of beautifully decorated vignettes. I would walk through there and dream of having enough money to have a bedroom like this one or a dining room decorated like that one. The prices were so far beyond what I would ever be able to afford, but it was fun dreaming. I often got ideas of things I could copy in a less expensive way to get a similar look.
On one of my trips through this store, I came across a beautiful rooster lamp. Surely a lamp would be in my price range, right? Nope! They wanted $189.99. For a lamp! I must really be out of touch with what things cost these days. I left the store knowing my brand new (at the time) $1 pair of lamps from the Goodwill store 15 years ago would have to continue lighting our home. And I'd still live. I guess.
A while back, I heard that this store was going out of business. The owner was retiring, so it wasn't a sad affair. I figured one of these days I'd get in there to see if I could afford anything yet.
Now, I will break to tell you that I don't read the newspaper or talk to people, or get out much. I like it that way. But this lifestyle poses a problem to me when it comes to knowing when a certain store may have its last day in business. I pulled up and to my dismay, the store had closed two days before. TWO DAYS BEFORE! I had missed my chance. Oh well. Anything I liked was probably sold anyway. I like to look on the bright side of things.
I went in next door and got some groceries. When I checked out, I asked the cashier if she ever saw anyone in there. After all, I could still see a couple of pieces of furniture in the window. She said she didn't even see the owner anymore. Not surprising since the store was closed.
When I came out of the grocery store, there was a man just going in. Should I? The worst he could say is that they were closed. I went in.
"I know you're closed. Is there any chance I could look around at what's left?"
"Sure. I'll be here for awhile. I need to load up some of this stuff in the truck. Look around and ask any questions."
Woohoo! I figured they still wouldn't have anything I wanted, but it would be fun to look around a store that was closed for business. I found a pretty dresser, but I didn't need a dresser. Ooh, a luxurious couch. Still too expensive for something we don't need. As I walked around, I touched this thing and that. I sat on comfy couches and uncomfy ones.
Then I saw it. The rooster lamp. I stroked it. It was so smooth. And pretty. And classy. Just like me. Except for the smooth part. And the pretty part. And the part about being classy. But other than that, just like me.
The outrageous price tag was still on it. $189.99! I looked around. Could I sneak it under my coat and dash out the door without being noticed? I doubted it. The thing was over two feet tall. And I wasn't wearing a coat. I walked away and continued to look around. I found a cute little rooster lamp. It was marked down 70%. I picked it up, knowing exactly where its home would be. I picked up a few other items marked down 70-80% off. Little things. Nothing to write about.
My little rooster lamp, at home on my coffee cabinet.
I went back upstairs. And back to my lamp. The owner was there. I asked him if, per chance, the lamp was marked down. After his hysterical laughter subsided, he told me to quit dreaming, I'd never own such a lamp as that. I wasn't good enough.
Just kidding. He told me it was also 70% off. My sharp mind went quickly to calculating. Maybe I'm not as sharp as I thought. After twenty minutes of finger counting, the man got impatient and just told me what the price would be. (kidding again about his impatience, not my finger counting)
I called Mr Farmer. This was still a big purchase for someone who had perfectly good, matching, $1 lamps at home. I was afraid. Mr Farmer is very practical. And likes to hold onto his money. Would he see just how wonderful our lives would be with this lamp in our home? Would he want his standing in the community to be increased and all the responsibility that comes with that? Could he handle the class?! My hands were sweating. I was going to throw up. I asked my question in a squeaky voice.
"I'll let you make that decision. You just have to live with the guilt," he replied. I hung up before he could say anything else.
Did I hear him right? I could get it? Did he really over-estimate my ability to feel guilt over it?
YES HE DID! The lamp was mine. I walked out with all my goodies. And my lamp. The clouds parted. Angels sang. It was glorious.
And I brought my rooster lamp home to roost.
The detail to make it look like wood is really cool. I love this lamp. And I've not had one minute of guilt over the purchase. Mr Farmer said it was nice. But several times that first evening, he exclaimed
how nice it was-- the perfect height to be able to see me better and it gave more light than the cheap-o lamp. He was happy with my lamp. Probably not as happy as I was. After all, in his eyes, it's still just a lamp.