Saturday was our semi-annual community garage sale. We don’t usually participate, because whenever I put a lot of effort into prepping for the sale, I usually net $1.25. And when I do a garage sale, I get very very into it, by pre-pricing, organizing everything into groupings, setting up a perfect display, and having all the right change.
It’s a lot of work.
As an avid garage sale shopper, nothing turns me off faster than someone throwing their tupperware out onto blue tarps on the front lawn, and calling it a garage sale.
I call it a drive-by.
We were all semi-enjoying a slow to get going Saturday morning, when all of a sudden Fiddledaddy announces that he wanted to throw some of our junk out on the lawn on blue tarps just to see if we could get rid of a few things.
And he also stated that he wanted me to have nothing to do with it, and I was to sit back and watch a little HGTV and take it easy.
I strapped on my brace and grabbed my crutches and aimed myself toward the garage, so that I could supervise this impromptu garage sale.
Mostly so that I could commandeer any priceless family heirlooms that Fiddledaddy might be trying to sneak out and get rid of without my consent and knowledge.
Now, mind you, the sale started at 8 AM, and it was 10:00 before we even opened our garage door. And in the spirit of full disclosure, our garage resembles a storage depot, because since I’ve been sick, no organization has been forthcoming as far as the garage goes. In fact, if I ask someone to put something out in the garage, a door gets opened, and the item gets flung into the black hole, also known as the garage.
Which is carpeted and air-conditioned, and used to be my painting studio. Sob. Sob.
The children mostly got into the spirit of things by hauling broken toys out, hoping above all hopes that they might make a little money. At one point, my crutch was missing, and I was certain that they had sold it.
Our 80 something year old neighbor came over to visit, while clad in her requisite moo-moo. I adore this neighbor. We kept Fiddledaddy amused by telling each other about our various arthritic aches and pains. And we both demonstrated to one another that neither of us are able to lift our left arm above more than a few inches.
All in all, we did okay, considering we put no effort into the sale whatsoever. Which I’m now convinced is the way to go. When it was over, Fiddledaddy piled what was left into the back of the van and headed to Goodwill.
We ended up making $44.00. Not bad.
I’m pretty sure that Fiddledaddy is going to use the proceeds to purchase me a moo-moo for Christmas.