We live on a cul-de-sac with an alley that runs behind the houses, where everyone accesses their garages. I was pulling out of our driveway the other day when I noticed this solid wood dresser sitting in the carport opposite ours. Just sitting there, all lonely 'n' stuff. It had its little vanity hutch sitting next to it, but still...looked like it needed a home. It was early in the day so I didn't give it much thought, maybe our neighbors were moving...but when I left the house later that evening for a quick grocery run, it was still there. I remembered a story I read on the Clover Lane blog not too long ago, where Sarah gives an account of falling in love with a particular house on her block, and finally just works up the courage to leave a letter in the owner's mailbox saying that she'd like to buy the house if they were interested in selling. It took a year, but the homeowner finally called, and Sarah was able to buy her dream house. Anyway, that thought crossed my mind and I figured leaving a note couldn't hurt. It was too late to knock... I jotted down a quick message indicating my interest and left my name and number, slipping the piece of paper under a cord that was sitting on the vanity so it wouldn't blow away.
The next day, the note had disappeared, but no phone call came. A couple of days passed and I figured that the owners of the furniture meant to keep it or give it to a friend or something. Darn, at least I tried. But lo and behold, my phone rang at about 7pm yesterday, and our mysterious neighbor was calling to invite me to pick up the dresser whenever I wanted! For freeeeee! Russ and I scurried across the alley and examined our loot. I immediately decided to leave the vanity since it looked a bit dated and didn't interest me, but the dresser was fantastic. Super heavy, a good sign, and every drawer has this really interesting old newspaper lining, a little hidden treasure. We enlisted my brother in-law to help transport the piece, and now it's sitting in my dining room, getting ready for a new life as a sideboard. When I figure out if I want it to be black, white, or bright, I'll update it with a shiny new paint job and hardware.
When something doesn't add up I usually say it "makes zero sense." I don't know how or why that started, but it's just one of my Miranda-isms. This week I learned that it makes zero sense to not take advantage of little opportunities. If I hadn't, I would have missed out on connecting with a new neighbor, and passed up a perfectly great piece of furniture that ended up costing me...zero cents.