Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Did I Seriously Say "Organized"?

Well, the fictitious garage sale is no longer a part of Salfino fiction. We took part in the town-wide garage sale last Saturday. And due to cloudy skies, mixed with a downpour, not to mention "damaging winds," as well as competition from everyone else on my street, the Saturday sale was s....l....o....w.

So, Sunday, I wake up at 7. The weather was calling for more rain. But it was sunny. And I was desperate to clear out the 8,000 things I got as far as the driveway.

Me: "Cara, we're having another sale today."

Cara: "I'm in!"

See, I let the kids keep the money from anything they sold. Considering about 99.9% of what we were selling was theirs, they had an incentive. Of course, when you're selling your stuff for between 10 cents and $1, there's only so much profit to be made. However, it speaks to how much they had to get rid of that they EACH made about $40. And we still have a ton of stuff in their rooms, the basement, the garage.... We need to hold another sale.

Except I won't get much support from Mike, whose only contribution this time was downloading and then blasting the theme from "Sanford & Son," for half and hour. It was embarrassing and hilarious at the same time.

Of course there are some things that aren't pleasant about garage sales (and Mike was quick to remind me that the letter "b" is the only thing separating a garage sale from a garbage sale--thanks for more high quality input, Mike). One is dealing with cranky old-timers who've logged a lot of time watching "Antiques Road Show, " "Cash in the Attic," "Don't Throw Away That Bic Pen Because It Could Spell Your Retirement in 50 Years," etc..

Cranky Lady #1: "Just a bunch of toys, huh? No ceramics?"

Cranky Lady #2: "Wow, I can't believe how many toys! I'll bet their rooms are clean now."

No. And you should have seen what I've had the Vietnam Vets truck pick up for the last three years!

Cranky Lady #3: "So spoiled! So much more than they could ever need!"

By which time I felt like screaming: "Sorry I don't have that rare vase to sell you for 50 cents so you can get $5,000 for it somewhere. But the Little Tikes playhouse, the pink girl's bike and the Step2 climber out front should have given you a head's up that this wasn't going to be a tour through a memorial to Gustav Stickley!"

Instead, I gave her the finger and kicked her out of my driveway. Ahhhh, if only.

--Catherine Schetting Salfino

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