F Is For Freak-Out

Or, at least, that is what I'd been planning for today.  And forgetting to set my alarm and waking up two hours late would usually send me right into freak-out mode, but not today.

The last couple of weeks I've been obsessed with one thing.  I've often thought of having a booth at an antique mall, but never did more than think of it.  Then weeks ago, I saw that a new shop was coming to town, looking for vendors.  I emailed to ask what that meant, and the next thing I knew, I was taking a box of  "inventory" down to met the owner.  

I was clear, the items in my box were not inventory.  They were my personal collection, but it represented my style.  She liked it, I liked it, and I became the proud renter of a 6x6 spot.  I'd already bought shelves for it and had been storing them in my parent's garage, now they would actually get some use!

I've spent the last few weeks shopping thrift stores and estate and garage sales, hunting vintage treasures.  The house has fallen apart: I haven't mopped in two weeks, dusting is a forgotten thing (except the one time I picked up a dog toy and wiped off the TV for better viewing), the clutter from my project is everywhere and the only thing I've halfway kept up on is laundry.  I like clean socks and underwear, what can I say?

But tomorrow, Saturday, is the opening day.

I thought today, Friday, would be a complete freak-out day for me.

But I woke up, two hours late and all, calm and happy.  It helps that when I left the shop last night, my space looked like this:  

I have a few things left, but if the shop opened right this minute, I'm ready.  And so very excited!  I now have a place to put all the cool things I always want to buy, but used to be stopped by my daughter being the voice of reason, asking me where I would put that item in our house......