I went to the estate auction for Florence Drew -- who died a month shy of 96. With a distracted flock of other bidders you wander along -- following the auctioneer as he jollies you along through the mounds and piles and boxes of an old lady's stuff. I bought a pile of her gardening tools and got a little green and yellow push cart for Monica. Mrs. Drew had upholstered the seat of her old Model A when it had outlived the car. I have a weird liking for the crunch of horsehair, and so for the fair price of 5 dollars that's become a bench in the basement. A pair of nice oak chairs for $7.50 each (and the man who I outbid shook his head regretfully and said I got a very good deal). And because I'd also been willing to pay 5 bucks for a few old Zane Gray novels, I ended up with a pile of 5 box lots tossed together. One, of fabric, I opportunistically pawned off on a church lady, and I gave a framed photo to someone who knew one of the people pictured. But the rest came home to be sorted into keep, donate or discard. Pictures and books and old housewares mostly. Ah, the guilty pleasures of being an auction bottom-feeder.