So I live in a city (it's a small city, but still technically a city) that can best be described as a combination of artsy and crunchy. Crartsy? And I have a bunch of junk. These two facts came together beautifully this past Saturday, when all of the junk FD and I have accumulated over the past several years found its way into our driveway.
Our yard sale was scheduled for 8am. By 7:30, some old lady in a windbreaker was robbing us. FD caught her, but kind of let it go. What are you going to do when a centenarian wants a plastic rosary or a book on Irish Wit and Wisdom, chase her back to her white Buick?
Aside from the elderly bandit, among the 40 or 50 people who dropped by were two former landladies, a co-juror, and several neighbors - some of them proved to be remarkably pleasant despite their creepy demeanor; others were even creepier than we thought!
Our daughter, "Monkey" thought the whole thing was a blast! She sat in an old director's chair that I painted for my sister in 1993 (a true artist dates her work) and insisted it was a "rocker." She blissfully ate a wheat bagel while she people-watched. And when it got too cold outside and I brought her inside, she waved and talked to Dada through the window.
But what we really took away from this yard sale was the realization that people will buy absolutely anything if it's cheap enough: Older woman wants fire-breathing dragon lounge pants that will never fit. Two bucks? Check! Guy with strange hat is interested in the tangle of wires and dog hair. Five bucks? He'll take 'em!