I find that most of my favorite things have some sort of story about them, something other than "I saw it and I bought it."
Clint and I stopped into an auction house a year or so ago. There was acres of junk being sold, and in the midst of it all, I spotted this cast iron candle holder.
It really was the only thing I was interested in. Unfortunately, we were just passing through, and the auctioneer was working tables on the other side of the hall. It would be hours before they got to it, and someone would probably outbid me anyway. Forget it!
For kicks, Clint asked me what my top dollar would be. I told him $20, but had already conceded the loss. I told him I was going to go check out the quilts, and then we could take off. I browsed the quilts and was shocked when I walked back just a few minutes later, to find Clint holding my chicken!
It seems I'd only stepped about 10 feet away before the auctioneer's assisant, out of the blue, meandered over and grabbed the chicken for the next sale. Out of all that junk, and on the opposite side of the room, MY chicken was suddenly on the block.
Clint got it for $17.
I would have never gotten my chicken. I wouldn't have kept my eye on the table, or waited it out, or been able to think on my toes enough to get my bid in. Clint is one cool bidder when we're at an auction; I can be standing right next to him and never have any idea he's bidding. It's as if he bids just by suddenly showing more of the whites of his eyes or something, and voila! We have a gorgeous cedar chest!
Or a really cool chicken.