It is past 10pm. I am listening to CBC radio in my media room, sitting at my second computer desk, the one given me by my sister last year, and which I had to assemble (there is a blog post about it from January of 2011, if you want to read it.)
We plan to get up early tomorrow morning, or early-ish, to get ourselves over to Dartmouth. I know. Dartmouth. My favourite place in the entire world. The place I look forward to going to the way I look forward to going to a craft show, which is to say, not at all.
A couple or three times a year, the provincial government sells off surplus goods. They can run from office equipment to ATV's, to chairs to dvd's of seasons of M*A*S*H* (probably seized under proceeds of crime.) Everyone is allowed to go to put in bids on these items. They're not restricted to just civil servants. I have never been to any of these auctions. I'm told that there are some good deals if you're careful about it and don't buy something for the sake of buying it. We already have enough whipper snippers and lawn mowers. But I would like to have a decent shelving unit for my mother's garage, where I have been spending quite a bit of time cleaning and classifying the items I have found therein. There should be some there tomorrow. I just hope I don't have to buy a pallet of them. Two would be plenty.
After we finish there, Patricia will show me the meat market in Dartmouth where you can get some great deals on animal flesh. There is still 5% space available in one of the 3 freezers we have here, so we may as well cram some more stuff in. I shudder to think what's at the bottom of the chest freezer behind me. Stuff that gets to the bottom is stuff that's forgotten about, sometimes for years. It also holds this year's Hallowe'en candy. Next year's, too, probably, if I only give each little bastard one piece of candy each.
We will probably check out some Buskers in the afternoon. I used to volunteer for that organization until I got the impression that they didn't care if I worked for them or not and made no effort to book me for any shifts as a driver. Drivers are like gold to most volunteer organizations, and when these volunteers are treated poorly (as I was), then the best thing you can do is walk and let out a big fart just as you reach the doorway, It's a little sad because I enjoyed meeting the buskers for the years I worked for them. Remind me to tell you of the time my dad and I went to the airport in the middle of the night to pick up one lady and her stuff.
Anyway, since I stopped volunteering for the Buskers, I lost much of my interest in watching them perform. In the last couple years, I have not gone at all. Perhaps, just perhaps, tomorrow will re-kindle my interest in them. Maybe, just maybe, I will reconsider my position on volunteering for them and give them another chance.
Saturday night we will eat some of the animal flesh we will have purchased in Dartmouth. Sunday we will probably do some cleaning up around here. You know there's some clutter when the cats beat their tails against the wall and glare at you while they're standing next to a pile of stuff that shouldn't be there.
Yep. The weekend's here.
Bring it on!