Monday, June 14, 2010

11. Craigslist

My sister Oakley adores Craigslist. She buys things, finds vacation house rentals, gives stuff away, sell things, you get the idea. I, being the non-techno-savvy person that I am, was really not that familiar with it, knowing merely that you could probably get rid of an old futon thru Craigslist.

Turns out, you can get a damn nice pedestal sink thru Craigslist. I did.

Here's my story: The Husband and I decided to remodel our basement's half bath (we affectionately referred to this 1970's relic as "The Chevron Station Bathroom"). So, we hired a wonderful contractor to start the work in a few weeks, and he told us we were responsible for purchasing the new tile, toilet, and pedestal sink.

Like any good remodeler, I immediately went to Lowe's on a reconnaissance mission. AND THERE IT WAS. My beautiful future sink. Tall, stately, heavy, enamel, gorgeous lines, and did I mention that it was VERY large-- exactly what we had been looking for. It was reminiscent of a 1930's Art Deco style grandeur and grace that one does not typically see in today's ubiquitous McMansions. (Unfortunately, it had the "grand" price tag to match: $300 for the pedestal base--that's right, it is sold separately!-- and another $300 for the basin. If you are as good at math as I am, you know that is $852.) And this does not even include the faucet.

My premature swoon morphed into a wistful sigh. Enter Craigslist. I was justaboutthisclose to going back to Lowe's and splurging, when I thought, "Huh, Oakley always says how great Craigslist is, why not take a peek?" It was easy and fun.

I typed in my city, clicked on the section called "for sale", typed in "pedestal sink", and voila! There it was. My EXACT same sink from Lowe's. Unbelievable. It is, have I mentioned, quite distinctive and quite expensive. The brand is Kohler and the price was only $300 FOR THE ENTIRE THING.

Back to our advanced Calculus and Algebraic equations, I immediately knew this was a savings of 23%-- quite a good deal. If the photos posted and the brief description were to be trusted, then the sink was in "excellent" and "practically brand new" condition.

I quickly grabbed my cell phone (Short has renamed it my "cell-a-phone") and punched in the number. I left a brief message, trying to make my voice sound "contractor-like", "all business", and maybe even "bossy".

The Guy called me a couple hours later, and after giving me the condensed history of the sink (it was indeed from Lowe's originally; he'd bought it off Craigslist himself from people who had the sink installed and changed their minds, but Lowe's would not accept a return on a used item-- THANK YOU, LOWE'S; now it didn't fit in The Guy's tiny bathroom.). We set a time to meet, I showed up, and there was the perfect sink. I paid The Guy $300, the crisp bills still stuck together after the ATM had furiously spit them out, and The Guy helped me load the two pristine pieces into The Husband's truck.

If you are looking for a twist, you won't find one.  The story has a happy ending. The sink is waiting in our basement for the nice contractor to start the job, and I sleep a little easier knowing that I have saved 500%. Oakley would be impressed.



  1. I have sink envy.

  2. oh you should. I could live in that sink. I walk downstairs to the guest bathroom just to pet it and tell it how beautiful it is. It doesn't say anything back, but that's just its cute way of agreeing with me.



When you write a comment, it makes me feel like I won the lottery or at the very least like I ate an ice-cream sundae. (This has nothing to do with the fact that I did just eat an ice-cream sundae.)