Rummage Roundup

Day Twenty-one. Warm, humid, sudden showers in the afternoon. I have to work first so by the time I get down the Ds are there and a few more. I have an irritating cold, on top of rummage psychosis and exhaustion. The last is sorted by ten after ten, and we get to work setting up Vintage, Costumes and Jewelry. R has a minor meltdown. J is being rather nice, though, most of the time. I take big toys to K and K, benches to books, raise flaps, lower flaps, move fences, shackle carts, walk around with W, and try on leather jackets. Things are so congested it is hard to shop, and, feeling woozy, I can't concentrate. Off a little early to do a memorial service, and the cold really kicks in once I leave the fairgrounds.

Day Twenty. Warm, clearing. I do a little shopping in Books and Kitchen. The sorters have mostly finished the backlog. G tries to catch the bees with a vacuum cleaner. G Camera shows me a Speed-Graphic. J and B consult on vintage; we will start setting up tomorrow. K and I sneak into a department after hours and find Bon Ton quality stuff.

Day Nineteen. Clear. Donations heavy. I leave a message for J at the office but find her at the fairgrounds. K and K are literally crossing off the minutes as the end of donations approaches. Still muddy. We are trying to line up trucks for the trash runs over the next few days. going through shoes and bags. D pops the top on a bottle of champagne as the donation time ends. P's truck went out of commkission yesterday with a bad starter. I tell M that we accepted 1.2 million donated items. Probably about right. Rumor has it Christine Todd Whitman came in a few days ago, after one, and was sent away because we were closed. She came back the next day. In the barn til after six, with K and J. Now to finish sorting.

Day Eighteen. Clear, calm. Except for the donations. K is talkiing about radically shortening the donation time. Can we lose a department? I am trying to organize the transition to sales space on Saturday. Purchases: 2 pair of shoes. A new volunteer wonders if R and I are married. Still mud everywhere. A buttefly overhead. I bring K a cast iron tractor. Tomorrow at one.

Day Seventeen. Heavy rains in the morning, clearing afternoon. JC and CC return and plunge into congratulations and rummage. The relentlessness of the donation period has the volunteers demoralized by now. There is standing water about, which turns gradually to a thick, sticky muck. By tomorrow, maybe, we'll start to dry out again. The Tuesday man comes in after a long nap, astride his domain with sturdy legs, alternately laughing and putting on that enigmatic look I know so well. WC pays a surprise visit. I intend to shop but am diverted to a tent-boosting project. No J today. Two more.

Congratulations, T and J!!

Day Sixteen. Moderately warm, partly cloudy. The baby was born on 9/21 at 9:21, or so they say. A good archer is not known by his arrows, but by his aim. In other news, the competing signs have started to pop up at the corner. It was a very heavy donation day. R puts the "Closed" sign on a ladder. I grab boxes for K and H. K is buying the guitar for her daughter. J drops by with pictures of the baby off the internet. W shows me watches. I owe L a get well card. Everyone is overwhelmed and tempers are short. Someone leaves ten boxes of records outside the sorting tent at 4:30. `Three more donation days.

Sunday. I drop in at the fairgrounds, where a soccer tournament is taking place. A few volunteers are working in Action. There are stealth donations. J has pretty eyes.