Total Take in Saturday's Yard Sale: $0

So, Saturday the kids and I had our yard sale. One thing I hadn't counted on was the sheer drudgery of it all. Schlepping all that crap from the house and shed out to the front yard, seemed to take forever. Even as I was dragging it all out there, people were already showing up, pawing through the stuff, and leaving. In fact, in the first fifteen minutes five people came by, and left without buying a thing. On top of that, three cars slowly crept by while the passengers gave my sale the old squirrely eye, and then they sped off. It was quite a slap in the face for me. All this crap that Mark, and I had so highly prized, was deemed junk not worth buying by these strangers. I still had hope. It was only fifteen minutes into the yard sale, and I was sure the crowd with money, ready to buy, would be along soon.

There is a funny thing about tropical downpours. You can be standing outside on a sunny morning, and suddenly you will hear a clatter quickly building in the near distance. It's the sound of rain marching steadily towards you. Rain, deep buckets of it with drops the size of quarters, coming on so fast that you barely have time to grab yourself and get to shelter. I managed to grab the DVD player I was peddling, and get up to the porch before everything in the front yard was drenched. Thirty minutes later it stopped, but the damage was done. Wet clothes, wet Bozo, wet everything. On top of that, the rain seemed to put an abrupt end to the yard sale people. Not one person came by after the rain. I guess that would make sense. Who the hell would want to buy soggy crap that was barely worth buying when it was dry. So I called it a day, and dragged all that shit back up to the house, cluttering up the sun room with piles of wet junk.

So the kids and I were done. Kids you say? Yes kids, as in children. The day before the sale I had invited the little darlings from next door to drag their toys over to my house for a combined yard sale. A little boy, and a little girl, in the eight-ish age range. All I can say about that is god bless mothers, fathers, teachers, and any one else who deals with kids on a daily basis. After two hours with them my brain was hurting. I found that children ask a lot of questions. I was asked about everything, about my tenants and why didn't they ever go outside, and how deep is my swimming pool, and are there snakes in the yard. I also became engaged in conversations about hunting with toy guns, and whether I liked Barbie or Ken. For the record, I don't like either. Barbie because she represents an unattainable perfection, and Ken because all he has is that little hump where his manhood should be. But of course, I didn't tell the kids that.