This is a tale of warning; we're sharing the very start of what's already an addiction...
A few weeks ago, we attended an annual event in our neighborhood -- a sidewalk sale where several blocks of an entire street (Elizabeth St.) participated. People hawking this, getting rid of that . . . much fun. And, at least to our experience, one of those "only in San Francisco" things. We found a set of bowls and a serving platter that matched one we already had . . . lucky us, now we have service for eight in Williams-Sonoma style, circa 2001 (heck, lucky for you, Joe and Jane Public--twice as much of a chance you'll be asked over to the Trimethyldioxypurist residence for dinner).
But we digress.
We also spotted a swell television -- 27 inches, manufactured within the past five years -- and the dude only wanted $30 for it. Sweet! Our previous television was at least 14 years old and only 20 inches and--most disturbingly--had taken to going all snowy at the most inopportune times ("Deal . . . or NO dea--PZZSttttzzzz!").
But deal-hunting is a hungry exercise, and we didn't have the strength to lug this find back home. Mrs Trimeth was also pretty beat from carrying the Prince around in the so-called "Bjorn device." And Cafe Ponte was a mere two blocks away . . .