Garbatrage

The husband and I made up a new word the other day: garbatrage. (Rhymes with garage.) (See also, garbatrageur, one who engages in garbatrage).

I know you all know garbage.

But do you know arbitrage? It's a great word, and extremely personally validating. There's a word for one of the major things I do with my time! Hooray!

I learned arbitrage from my economist husband, because the word generally refers to stocks and currency and things like that. But when I use it, it generally refers to craft supplies. Or vintage goodies.

Or in the case of April and/or October in Norman, OK, anything that people leave on their curbs that looks semi-useful and will fit in my car.

Now, ever since I learned of this semiannual tradition, I've been hitting the streets of Norman with my trusty driver, keeping my eyes peeled and yelling "PILE!" when I see, well, a pile. Of junk. Although, as they say, one man's trash...

Up until this summer, I could only pick up things that I knew would be useful to myself (or that I knew for sure would be immediately useful to someone I know). But that all changed when we moved into a house with a garage. (Which is suspiciously similar to both garbage and arbitrage. Coincidence?)

Now I can pick up anything of any value, store it in my garage, and sell it at discount prices in a yard sale next spring. And that, my friends, is garbatrage.