I hope you don’t think this post will offer any type of useful information about buying new vs. used… unless you’re looking to avoid haunted boxes. 😂 Anyway…
Happy Friday!! We made it!! What a crazy-pie week this has been. Between having some serious bouts of second thoughts about our whole situation earlier this week and being back in the hotel room with the toilet that steams your ass as you take a bathroom break, I am ready for this weekend. And I didn’t even do any work. Poor Anthony needs about eight back-to-back weekends to catch up on his sanity after such a crazy-busy intro to his new job.
Luckily though, this time next week we will probably be lugging boxes out of a POD as the proud new owners of our Massachusetts digs. That can’t come soon enough. For reals.
During the last few months, we have been using some of our weekend time to look around at furniture for the house. It’s a little bigger than our last one, and a completely different style, so not all of our furniture is going to cut it this go-around. Currently on my wish list of things that I don’t feel like spending money on is a dining room table that’s a wee bit longer than our current one and is befitting of a home built in 1930. Unfortunately that particular era tends to cause some people (me) to wonder if it’s haunted, and others to suggest antique stores.
Now look, I know you get can some pretty amazing stuff from an antique store. In fact, I watch one of Anthony’s former coworkers Joanna Gaines the shit out of antiques regularly on her Instagram. They go from shabby to chic in the blink of an eye and she should have a blog & an Etsy shop & anything else those talented Pinterest girls have.
I on the other hand, empress of the Undomestic and binge-watcher of any type of paranormal investigation show know full well that anything I’d purchase from an antique shop is going to stay looking like an antique until the end of time, lest I destroy it in an attempt to fix it. And, oh yeah, that said item could very well be just as HAUNTED as my future home has the potential to be.
I’m not sure when exactly this very strict “no antiques! 👻” policy originated, but I remember being irrationally adamant about leaving all forms of payment in the car one day in 2015 when we stopped in one while out shopping for our first home in Wisconsin. So it was definitely long before I saw the Paranormal Witness episode about dybbuk boxes that fully solidified my aversion early 2017.
The dybbuk box is a wine cabinet or something similar that is haunted/cursed by some Jewish or Gypsy (can’t remember which) evil spirit. I guess that’s all well and good until you OPEN THE BOX and it effects anyone in contact with it. And of course everyone opens it eventually. Though I can’t imagine why, because I even think they look scary on the outside and I’d definitely be like “oh wow thanks you shouldn’t have so please take it back because I will never keep this in my house let alone display it” if I ever received one as a gift. Which one of the people did, from her son. (Did he hate her?) And where do you think he got this little box of paranormal herpes? An antique store.
I don’t know if the reenactments are just better, or the cases are creepier than other shows, but I always know the colossal mistake we’re making when we get in bed at night and decide that that is the most appropriate time to binge-watch a show about crazy hauntings. When I fell asleep I had a dream that this little jewelry box I had back home in Connecticut WAS a dybbuk box and somehow not only ended up at my house in Wisconsin, but ended up OPENED in my backyard. In the dream we sealed it shut and put it in a closet in the basement. It was either that or Jumanji that shit off a bridge. 🤷♀️ No thanks. Keep your enemies close, folks, that’s what I say.
Okay okay, when we peruse these dingy shops full of potentially haunted objects and I announce to Anthony that “I bet there’s a f***ing dybbuk box in here somewhere” as I look around all knowingly, I’m usually joking. But seriously over my dead body will I buy any box-shaped item from an antique shop. Which is why our trip to a little mom & pop furniture shop with an eerie detached warehouse was fruitless except for my hot Starbucks drink turning iced in the car. It was creepy with what felt like very “used” items upstairs, and I just knew that place was crawling with potential dybbuk boxes. Not to mention as I was leaving, hanging over the top of the stairs was a damn CLOWN the size of my torso.
Thankfully, if I were to ever have a heart attack, it would have been right then and there. So on a positive note, my recent hypochondriacal cholesterol concerns have been put to rest. 😅
And that, friends, is the story of why I primarily shop at Target & all of our household items are new. 💁