The Typewriter Graveyard?

It's been a super busy winter! Much busier than I anticipated. Fun shows (if you missed Indie Sac on Saturday, you missed a GREAT time!), lots of buying and jewelry designing. We've launched a couple of new lines that we're really excited to showcase this spring. But did I mention lots of buying??

My sister called my on Saturday and said, "You're either going to love me or hate me". Never a good opening line.
"We just bought some typewriters."
"Some?"
"Well, 19 to be exact."
"That's awesome! Where are they?"
"Um...Fresno."
"Guess I'm heading to Fresno on Monday to pick up typewriters."
"That would be great. Did I mention they were in an old wooden warehouse?"
"No."
"Did I mention that the warehouse hasn't been touched for 50 years?"
"No."
"Did I mention that it has a dirt floor and the typewriters are covered in 50 years of dirt?"

So I ventured to Fresno today to pick up 19 typewriters.
But I definitely wasn't prepared for what I saw (or got). The floor wasn't just a dirt floor but a loose dirt floor about an inch and a half thick. I took my push cart so I could load 4 to 5 typewriters at a time. I knew I was dusty dirty when I got into the car. But I had been careful to keep the typewriters waist high so I took off my coat and brushed off my pants as well as I could. I tried several times to "instant sanitize" my hands but it was really just going from dust to mud.


I pulled into a gas station to get gas and wash my hands. I walked in and paid for my gas and the attendant gave me a very strange look. I head to the bathroom and wash my hands. I look up into the mirror and my face is COVERED in dirt. Big smears of dirt. After washing my face, I went out to pump my gas, keeping one eye open for the police. I was sure the attendant had called the police and said, "Some homeless woman has apparently stolen a jeep full of typewriters, get here quick."

If dust was money, I'd be a billionaire.