I'm no spoucher!

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who know what they want and go for it, and spouchers; folks who browse, poke and ponder.

I’m in the former category. I don’t like fooling around, going to the store and strolling each aisle, peering at this and that and picking up whatever suits the mood.

That drives me nuts! I’m more of an in-and-out kind of guy, the one with a list in hand and only so many minutes to get in there, find what I need and get out.

I’m not running the aisles, mind you, because that would be rude. Instead, I’m purposeful, a man on a mission, intent on getting the goods and making my escape before the joint gets too crowded, the kids too antsy and my patience too thin.

Does this sound odd to you? Probably only if you’re not like me and countless others out there of similar mind.

The spouchers don’t understand the utility of what we do: how it frees up baskets and buggies, minimizes traffic in stores, malls, at yard sales and flea markets.

Speaking of flea markets and yard sales, I’ve been to plenty. They’re okay, but is it something I pursue of my own accord? Generally not.

Saturday or Sunday rolls around, the kids are eager for an adventure and my wife is interested in finding special something that she’s convinced exists at someone’s roadside display.

She went to the Dump and Run event at Acadia on the weekend and yes; she found plenty of cool stuff and prices that were out of this world. If she had the truck with her, she said, she would’ve loaded up the back of it and lit out like she had won the lottery.

I have no problem with that. In fact, anyone who went to Dump and Run left quite likely happy with the treasures they found.

But when my wife described the line-up to get in, the hackles went up. The line stretched out the Arena door and down the sidewalk, three to five people deep, to the crosswalk across Main. At least a football field’s length of living tissue, waiting anxiously to move forward, chatting amiably and hoping an overcast sky didn’t turn to rain.

My list – if I had been in the line – would’ve been rounded into a ball by the time entrance was imminent because this kind of procession weighs on me like a lead overcoat.

The reward doesn’t justify the time, lower back pain, varicose veins and whatever else accrues as you wait your turn to spouch. Don’t get me wrong - people love it. I know! But it’s just I’m no good at it.

I was here in the salt mine hammering out this week’s edition at the time and that’s probably a good thing. I’m off this weekend and who knows what’s on the slate.

I’m open to possibility, of course, but if we do a yard sale or similar escapade, let’s agree: no spouching. Go in with a wish list and a time limit.

It makes sense and we’ll still have fun, won’t we? Yeah, ‘course we will. See you there.