When urge hits, who knows what will go home from auction

I’m a sucker for auctions.

There’s just something about them that gets my blood oscillating and clicks me into spending mode. I don’t know what it is. The ring of the auctioneer’s voice maybe, or his triple-time jargon describing all those old-time doodads. All I know is that I get a terrible acquisitive urge. I’d be a whole lot better off if I never attended the darn things.

Actually I did layoff for quite a while after I bought a couple of old designer dresses that, when I got them home, didn’t come anywhere near fitting. They were, in fact, downright ugly, and I’m not a good enough dressmaker to re-do them. Cha-ching. (That’s the sound money makes going down the drain.)

But not long ago I saw Owens and Co. had an auction scheduled at its 14208 E. Sprague Ave., address and, well, I didn’t have anything else to do.

“Let’s go,” I urged my husband and he, silly man, replied, “Why not?” This is the man who tells me, “If you want it, buy it.” Good grief! He shouldn’t encourage me.

Turns out we arrived a little late, and by the time we found a parking spot, the auction had already begun.

“We didn’t get here in time to preview stuff,” I whine.

The hubster just shrugs, no doubt chortling under his breath. Mind you, even a casual glance reveals there’s nothing here we need, or even particularly want. I know it as well as he does, but that acquisitive urge is calling my name.

Meanwhile, to my surprise, I discover something new in the auction world. Instead of one auctioneer, there are two. One is continuously setting up his next sale while the other is taking bids on something else. Heavens! There’s hardly time to cool off my bid card between waves.

In the past the hubster and I have dropped a pretty good piece of change at these doings. Some purchases have been more worthwhile than others. When we were first married and had nothing – including money – we attended a sale that took place just off the highway running through beautiful downtown Plummer, Idaho. A little octagonal table took my eye.

“Twenty-five cents,” the hubster bids.

“Fifty cents,” counters another bidder.

With a ferocious glare at his opponent, the hubster jumps all the way to a dollar and wins. We still use this little table, which we’ve decided was probably made by a high-school shop student. It’s gone through many incarnations from its native alder, including antiqued green, Caterpillar yellow, and back to alder. Man, they don’t make things like they used to.

Some things we’ve bought weren’t so great, like the Victorian commode that smells like the chamber pot stored in it a hundred years or so ago. All the boxes of soda I’ve set inside haven’t been able to freshen it. I’m going to try wadded up newspapers next. A good use for old Spokesman-Reviews.

The reason I come to auctions is because I’m always on the lookout for items to add to my glassware collection. Victorian pickle casters are my passion. I only have four, and they’re a bit hard to find locally. One we bought several years ago at an estate auction here in Spokane. I never tell anyone what I paid for it, but in an article a reporter from the S-R wrote about the “spirited” bidding. Thank goodness no names were used.

But here we are at this auction. There’s old stuff, new stuff, jewels and junk. With all the seats taken, we stand by a display cabinet filled with ladies’ hats and caps. Some are rather nice and I have to quell that old acquisitive urge. The fur coats, of which there is also quite a number, do not tempt me. Neither does the jewelry, although a hundred bucks for a 14-carat gold, ruby and diamond ring doesn’t sound too shabby. A Victorian perfume flask goes for $75. Excitement builds.

I see several musical instruments. Two people bid for a flute, which goes for $95. Next up is an itty-bitty concertina – either a toy or salesman’s sample – won for only $45. A couple of stringless violins wait in the wings.

There’s a tiny Singer sewing machine; again, probably a salesman’s sample. Next is an old telephone, of a kind I’ve never seen before. There are two Kitchen Queen cupboards, one with turquoise paint that sells for $400, and a red one for $175.

I don’t see anything I’m desperate to add to my collection, and we soon weary of standing. The hubster sighs with relief as we leave, empty handed. I’m feeling pretty good myself. We’ve had an afternoon’s entertainment and spent nothing. My problem with auctions, you see, is that I worry when I win something, fearing I’ve paid too much. Buyer’s remorse never fails to kick in.

But not this time. This time I’ve kept my acquisitive urge in check.