We had our big garage sale this weekend. Things went pretty well. (read as: we made enough money to compensate for our misery). It was hot this weekend. The temperature reached triple digits both days and the humidity was, um, humid. And we had a lot of stuff to sell.
I felt a little like Weird Wally trying to dispose of items that His and I have had for so long, but couldn’t justify hauling across the country. I don’t like to haggle and that made this weekend tough. If only someone had asked us to throw in some rope and strap it to their car!
I’m amazed by what people will actually buy at a garage sale. We had one guy buy His’ entire box of CD’s. Did he know the artists? Well, maybe a few put he wanted the whole box. What is he going to do with these? What must his house look like if he is just going around buying all of this random stuff? Why did a bunch of thugged out Gangsters want two-dozen glass hurricanes and a gilded gold mirror? Why would somebody want to refinish wicker? These are the questions that have haunted me.
The highlight of the sale: The boy who bought Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Thank you for buying that movie, but if you were really that patriotic, why didn’t you buy the flag desk?
And for the guys who bought our refrigerator: Its still there, please pick it up.
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