Running With Irony

Last week, I briefly mentioned a swap of clutchbacks in a thrift - theft, in fact, albeit what most people would consider "minor" (and I justified as) because both pair of "crap" earrings were $4 (so it wasn't as if I changed out an expensive thing for a cheaper thing).  I have a conscience (with feathers) that doesn't just tweak me on things like this but practically shoots an air horn in my ear:  hence, the penance of donating jewelry (one crime to "fix" another).  Thanks to this, however, I forgave myself for my very unusual slip of ethics.

But Mama Angel is the gift that keeps on giving, and hyperfocused, too!  Last week was about helping me toward an unreal streak of great deals (that coin, if you didn't look, is 1/10 oz of pure gold) but this week was about digging in the knife, just one more time.  It wasn't the yank toward getting my practically-Hoarders living room cleared out on Saturday (instead of yard sales), nor was it the reminder that I hadn't paid bills or balanced the checkbook in two weeks (all of which kept me from The Hunt); no, it was a little revelation at the original site of my heinous act.

I stopped back at that thrift Saturday (between errands) to check on my donated jewelry (mostly sold!) and to see if anything new had been set out.  Nothing caught my eye except, of course, the "crap" earrings I'd put back, those of the formerly guilty conscience, the pair I didn't buy.

 They looked less ... plastic this time, and shinier.  So I removed the craptastic backings I'd traded out and looked more closely at what I'd passed on.  And ... can you see it?  The streaks?  The color?  The plaque at the top of the left earring - the one that says "585"?  Yeah, it's like that.

So, to summarize: I hammered myself with guilt, paid for a shabby steel pair of earrings (which I gave away) and two gold clutchbacks (which I kept) ... then forked out more for the ivory and 14K pair I'd passed on (which now have the swapped-out clutchbacks) after donating gold and silver pieces.  Mama Angel, at her knifey best, went out of her way to show me the irony of it all ... and, of course, to get in that one, final word.

Fair enough.  They look fabulous on me, after all.