One of the best things about living in a small town is the idiosyncrasies that take me by surprise just when I thought we’d lost some of our small town identity–especially with the addition of a Costco.
Monday I went down to Main Street to an independent bookstore that claims to be an antique shop (that also sells books). A colleague had found that they had one copy of a certain book and I offered to pick it up since I lived there. I knew the store, I’d had a book signing there once.
Like its name, Confetti Antiques and Books, items are strewn throughout the spaces as if someone had dropped brilliant colored bits from above. Amidst flowered china and green glassware there are pictures, cake platters, furniture, a large porcelain tub filled with buttons, an old fashioned sled, and of course, books. I had looked forward to the excuse to visit again.
However, the door was locked. The lights inside were off.
Confused, I read the store hours posted on the glass door. Tuesday – Saturday, 8-6 (or something similar). Sunday, closed. It’s one of the things I like about this town. Even the main grocery store closes on Sunday. And for the remaining day? It was then that I realized, Costco not withstanding, that I still lived in a small town. It read: Mondays–Sometimes.
Cue the whistling–it’s time to go fishing.