Big Lots had an array of reasons for why she couldn't come to AZ from her native state of New York. There was work, her panic attacks, family obligations, anything you can imagine to keep us 2500 miles apart. This went on for about a year and a half when suddenly I got a call one day that Big Lots was here at a Scottsdale hotel. I jumped for joy! Big Lots had sent me numerous pictures of herself, showing off her 5' 7" frame and 127 LB weight with model proportions.
I leaped up the stairs to get ready for my impromptu date with destiny. Speeding all of the way. Keep in mind, I was totally overcome by the affection and caring ways of this woman. By the way, Big Lots was 22 years younger than me and clearly a woman of means. I arrived at the Scottsdale hotel and waited rather impatiently in the lobby. Along comes a woman that was about 5' 3" and 180 LB, with jet black frizzy hair and a yellow stripe along one side of her head. She looked like a skunk left out in a rainstorm. She was less than attractive and the only thing that I remembered was her voice, with it's annoying nasal New York accent. I was speechless!
Okay, fast forward a couple of years. This woman was like the herpes, I couldn't seem to shake her. She was everywhere. I'd walk into my favorite restaurant and the waiter would tell me I had a phone call. She'd call and email relentlessly. In spite of my ignoring her, she persisted. In January of 05 I suffered heart surgery and Big Lots was there, but this time she was helpful. After all I couldn't do anything myself and Big Lots brought me food and took me out for rides around town. I didn't mention it, but by this time, Big Lots had moved here to Phoenix and rented an apartment 4 blocks from my house. That's right, full blown stalking.
I ignored her as much as a person can humanly ignore someone else, but she would still text me late at night to tell me my garage door was open. How would she know? Well, I told you all of that, so I could tell you all of this. At some point, Big Lots decided that Arizona was not the ideal place for her and had decided to move back to New York. Here was the problem that she presented to me. Her boss offered her double her salary to stay and train the new replacement, but her apartment lease was up, so could she please stay with me for 2 weeks?
Look, she just devoted her life to get me back on my feet and how could I possibly say no? I did have several extra bedrooms and if anything she would feed me. I told her I'd be happy to accommodate her. Big mistake. Two weeks went by and then three and four. No mention of moving. She was as happy as a clam. Finally I said something about getting my privacy back and of course she was insulted. Finally I heard her calling the movers.
Many items that she no longer wanted, she just wanted to leave here with me. Since they were already placed in my home, there was no work involved in just saying fine. There were stereos, a TV, mirrors and tables and chairs. Basically all of the things we sold in the garage sale. One item in particular was called Magic Feet. For Magic Feet, you poured hot water into this creation and then plugged it in and it vibrated, supposedly massaging your feet, only it didn't do anything but annoy you. I tried it one time and decided it was a Ron Popeel disaster and put it on a shelf in various garages.
Yesterday, as an afterthought, I put a $5 price tag on it and waited. Nothing. No one wanted Magic Feet, no one! About 11 AM, we were tired of garage saling and wanted to close up shop, at the desire of LJ. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a single couple walked into the driveway and the woman picked up Magic Feet and continued shopping. Both Julie and I immediately perked up at the sight of Magic Feet going to a new home, along with the memory of this short fat girl soaking her tired dogs in the solution with flies flying around the entire caboodle. After investigating, it was determined that the new potential owner just moved her from New Jersey, due to the second bad winter in a row. So evidently, soaking your feet is an East Coast thing. She was not the first person to attend out garage sale that was a recent transplant from New Jersey. Julie and I both looked at each other and quickly decided that New Jersey might be empty soon!
Here was the killer. The woman after telling us that she bought the house just down the street, asked LJ how much for her purchases? Julie said, how about $10 for everything and Jersey had acquired 2 blouses in addition to Magic Feet. Nice blouses that were not going to cover Jersey's rather robust bust! Without missing a beat, Jersey says.................$9? Julie yells, sure. I was ready to knock her down! Who does that? Who introduces themselves to you as your new neighbor, then chisels you out of a buck? Who I ask you? Who? Jersey did, that's who!