phosfate

I finally figured out that the antiques store where I tripped over the crossbow* is a five-minute walk from our new building. Yay!

Found some awesome late-60s doll props (record player, TV, suitcase). Laughed at certain sellers' inability to date the most basic items (Yes, Barbie says 1966 on her neck. This does not mean that's when she was made, you dumb cluck.). Was horrified by Jerry Springer. It was sort of like being at my sister's house, except nobody was playing Michael McDonald albums. Thank Christ.

Also, the sidewalk cement outside the store has dog footprints in it. Labrador size. That will never not be funny.


_{*There's an entry for it somewhere, but I couldn't tell you when. Somebody decided the floor was a good place to display a crossbow. A crossbow. Sadly, it wasn't arrowed up, or the noise I made would have been THUNKCLANGOWJESUSsffflangTHOCKonggggggg, instead of just THUNKCLANGOWJESUS.}