Signs of Summer

         Ah, summer. You can sure see the signs. The flesh-scorching daytime temperatures that inevitably lead to dazzling lightning attacks that pound the earth so vigorously it loosens your back teeth and scares the wits out of anyone who has ever seen the movie Twister. Then there’s the constant whine of mosquitoes in search of blood engorged flesh much like my own to feast on. One gets so vigilant to the feeling of something landing on us, we slap at any slight touch - a blade of grass, a tuft of dandelion fluff, a spouse that stops talking to you for the rest of the day until you admit it was on purpose. Then there’s the endless parade of motor homes, truck and camper units, tent trailers and fifth wheel monstrosities all whizzing by as people try and "get away from it all" only to discover they brought it all with them. The irony is lost on them in their focussed determination to get ahead of the gigantic Winnebago ahead of them, not caring there are still dozens, if not hundreds of Winnebagos ahead of that one.
          But to me, the surest signs of all that summer is really upon us in all its glory, is the ever present "garage sale" signs. They set my heart a-fluttering like a debutante at prom.
          Being "Mr. Wise Shopper" (not "Joe Skinflint", as some would believe) I truly appreciate the incredible bargains available to those with the patience and persistence to dig through piles of junk to locate rare treasures. To me, this is recycling at its best; probably heartily endorsed by Dr. David Suzuki himself. (I bet the good doctor has a house just crammed with garage sale goodies.)
           In fact, you wouldn't believe the haul I got last weekend. I bought a stereo, a set of encyclopedias, a cheese slicer and an electric razor. Guess how much I paid for all that stuff. Fifty dollars? Uh uh, too high. Forty? No, sirree. Try $17.10 for the whole works. What a deal. I almost felt guilty taking it.
           This was high quality stuff, too; real top drawer. The stereo, for example, plays both records and 8 tracks and even has a system whereby you can stack up four or five albums on the turntable and they will drop down and play automatically, almost like one of those fancy CD players. Of course after the third disc drops down onto the rest, it kind of slows down the motor so the Bee Gees start sounding a lot like Barry White on downers, but this can be a good thing. Actually the 8 track makes a similar noise when it starts “eating the tapes” but since 8 tracks of everything from Abba to Z Z Top are only ten cents a piece at garage sales, who cares?
          You wouldn't believe the encyclopedia set, either. It's the 1964 Encyclopedia Britannica and not only does it look brand new, but it's also almost complete. I have never been that interested in people or places that start with L, N or T, anyway. I just can't wait til I need to look something up! Who needs Google? (Well, I do for anything beginning with L, N or T, I suppose.)
          I will admit I'm a little disappointed in the razor however. Being a discriminating purchaser, I made sure it worked before I bought it, but I didn't actually test it on my face. Perhaps I should have, however, because it appears that the three rotary blades, although they do go around, don't seem to go around fast enough. This means that instead of the whirling blades cutting the hairs off evenly at skin level, they actually grab hunks of hair and yanks them out by the roots. The pain is both exquisite and profound. Since it will never come within scarring distance of my face again, I'll probably give it to my wife for her birthday to use on her legs.
          In some ways, though, the best deal of all was the cheese slicer. It's one of those high tech ones with a wire instead of a blade. I tried to dicker with the lady who was selling it, I figured I could beat her down by 10 per cent, at least, because the wire was a little bent but she stood firm. She pointed out it was only ten cents anyway and why was I wasting her time trying to chisel her out of a penny, but I figure that you never know, you know.
          When I lugged all my booty into the house to show it all off to my wife, I must say, she was decidedly underwhelmed. She took the $17.10 I had spent and added in the gas for the car, the lunch I bought and a couple other minor expenditures and figured out I had actually spent about fifty bucks for all my treasures.
          Mind you, I didn't tell her about the electric razor. I wouldn't want to spoil her birthday surprise.