So he's opened up his lawn again to all his treasures. Things you wouldn’t normally want to part with. He has four broken coffee pots, seven dirty stuffed animals and a Donna Summer’s cassette in excellent condition. One of our neighbors down the street has been having the eternal garage sale. It seems that every week we go by he has unloaded his house out onto his grass. Setup the four card tables and labeled all his nearly priceless trinkets.
I don’t have any issues with garage sales. It’s a good way to get rid of the things you don’t want to keep anymore. You sell what you can. Donate what they’ll take. Throw away the rest. Then you can enjoy a little extra cash, satisfaction and more open space.
I always feel a bit strange at garage sales. It’s a little odd sorting through someone else’s junk and finding something that will one day become your junk. Some people try to unload the strangest stuff. Word to the wise never buy a, pet-brush, hairbrush or toothbrush at a garage sale. Even if it does have a Winnie the Pooh handle on it. Why do people think just because you put a price sticker on it someone will buy it? No one wants your church mouse toaster cozy!
If no one buys from your first eight garage sales, odds are you don’t have anything anyone wants. You would think this would be a simple concept to grasp?
“Maybe no one saw this lamp?”
“Mel,” his wife sighs “It’s a plastic artichoke lamp; they just aren’t as popular as they used to be. Maybe we should just throw it away.”
“Do you remember what we paid for this?!”
“Forget I mentioned it...I’m sure it will go this week…”
So he sits in his driveway every week with is Panama hat, cargo shorts and flip flops. Itching to make an exchange, hoping to haggle and dying to deal. His lockbox is shined and hungry for gobbling up greenbacks.
“Thanks so much for coming” He waves, “All deals are final!”