It was inevitable, I suppose, that this week would come crashing down on my head even before Tuesday was over. We’re in the final throes of putting together the “Best of Phoenix” (ironically titled, if you ask me) and in many ways it’s the best and worst one we’ve done. Always a ton of work. Inevitably a lot of drama.

And it was just too good to be true, this past weekend, when I actually found myself forgetting names of co-workers and titles of work blogs. You might find yourself in The Zone after hiking a tall mountain. For me, it came after travesing an enormous flea market. The Rose Bowl Flea Market (held the second Sunday of the month in Pasadena, California) is billed as one of the largest in the country, and I believe it. I didn’t sit down from 7 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. and I can’t tell you how many piles of stuff I examined.

For me, that’s heaven. I call it “Other People’s Shit,” but really, it’s treasure, and the junkier the better. eBay and etsy have picked most collections clean, but there were still deals to be had — if a celluloid Cracker Jack charm shaped like an owl is something you crave. I also snagged an old Levi jacket, a piece of carnival chalk shaped like Sleepy (the dwarf), black poodle bookends, a gaudy pink and blue rhinestone pin, a book about Christmas in Mexico, several bags made from Thai rice bags, some tiny grasshoppers intricately shaped from chenille,  and a rickety flower-covered iron candle holder. Among other things.

There were some deals that got away, like the kewpie doll chalk figurine that someone had cleverly converted into a lamp and dressed in silk and dice beads. The woman was asking $90 and would have settled for $50, but I was hoping to spend closer to $10. And so the kewpie was not to be mine. I couldn’t stop thinking about her on the drive home.

That was Sunday night. I haven’t thought of her since. My treasures are still crammed in their bags, abandoned on the kitchen table. Pasadena is a distant memory.

Tonight I’ll likely nod off over the proofs of the Goods & Services section of “Best of,” but if I have a few minutes, I’ll rummage through my bags and look at my treasures and forget about work — and the email I sent the special ed teacher today.

More on that tomorrow.  For now, I’ve got a date with some chenille grasshoppers.