All Apologies
Dude, I have been one maudlin blogger lately, yes? I feel oddly guilty for dragging a bunch of strangers into the mayhem.
It’s 8:15 here, and the sun hasn’t yet set, and so help me, I don’t think we’re going to make it to 9 p.m. Exhaustion is not just a word in the dictionary, it’s our reality. Between the loss of a beloved relative and moving, we’re up to our ears. It’s also made today’s post rather lame, so I’m apologizing for that, too.
We had a yard sale on Saturday. Oh holy Christ, what an experience. Did you know there were early birds at yard sales? Do you know exactly what that means? Terror in the driveway, that’s what that means.
Our yard sale started at 9 a.m., as clearly stated on our fluorescent green signs. I might add here that I spent three hours making them the night before, huffing the Sharpie Magnum purchased specifically for the occasion. We got up early – around 6:30 – and went to Stop n’ Shop to get bagels and Bloody Mary supplies for our distinguished guests and temporary yard sale employees – Adam’s sister, Faith, my sister, Ann, and my best friend, Eve – and on the way back, we hung our signs. It was 7:00 a.m.
7:03 a.m. Adam’s cell phone rang – it was Faith. People were already starting to LINE UP OUTSIDE and some were demanding that they enter the house to check out the merchandise.
Are you fucking kidding me?
When we arrived home, we discovered that alas, she wasn’t kidding. Or fucking kidding. Or any form of kidding at all.
Not one to let potential buyers go, I was left down below to man the cashbox while the rest of the crew brought down the items. Easy, I thought. At least I wasn’t lifting. Or dealing with our screaming downstairs neighbor who was furious at the sight of eleventy million wildly enthusiastic bargain shoppers past her bedroom window before 8 a.m. on a Saturday.
Good thing we’re moving.
Believe me, I’d rather have had to lift an entire two-ton truck filled with fresh cat shit than deal with these people. Shrewd, rude and overbearing, their goal was to get the lowest price possible, in the most obnoxious way possible, so they could resell it at another venue. Why ELSE would they be out trolling the neighborhood at SEVEN O’CLOCK ON A SATURDAY MORNING?
I performed terribly. I let bundles of things go for a steal, and by the sight of a few huddled, surreptitious escapes, I’m pretty sure there was some actual stealing going on. And given that I downed four Bloody Marys before 8 a.m., I was cheering them on, “See you later, thanks for coming! COME BACK IF YOU NEED ANYTHING ELSE!!”
Alas, I was serious. It didn’t occur to me until after they were gone that they looked rather…guilty.
By noon, we were shot, hungover and more tired than we’d been in a long time. Hours of aggravation, sunburn, haggling and screeching netted us a grand total of….
$300.
I’m telling you, I would rather pay someone $300 than do that again.
Never, ever again.
6 comments July 19th, 2005