First of all, thanks to a virus which has landed my beloved laptop in the computer hospital for 4-7 more days, I am hunched over, head lamp on, magnifying glass in hand, typing this on my Blackberry. I’ve narrowed the potentially sinister virus-giving sites down to MyFitnessPal.com and ExBoyfriendCyberstalk.com – until I determine which is to blame I recommend avoiding both. I can’t find the spell check button on the mobile version of Blogger so you’re about to see my public school education shining through right here.
The things I do for you.
Anyhoo, over the weekend we hosted a garage sale. I say that like it’s no big d, like I didn’t spend three weeks of my life alone in the garage strategically placing hundreds of tiny pricing stickers over the barf and poop stains on my children’s outgrown clothing.
My emotions ran an the gamut from nostalgic and choked up when I began sifting through onesies to angry and personally offended when someone would look at something and put it back.
One thing is for certain – I’ve haven’t worked that hard for fifty cents since that one time in college when I won a bet about whether or not I could chug a glass of ketchup without puking.
There are two types of people who come to garage sales:
1. Normal people
2. Crazy people
Normal people show up, say good morning, buy something, and don’t give you any reason to believe they’re going to show up in a few hours and watch you sleep.
Crazy people show up smelling like cheese and have hair growing in places the good lord didn’t intend. They will buy the most random thing in your driveway and then ask if you have any lighters you want to get rid of.
Just when you think they’re gone they’ll walk out of your front door and tell you you’re gonna need to put toilet paper on your shopping list and ask how much you’d take for your wedding album.
Any pride in my cherished things completely vanished by noon, when I was literally chasing people down my driveway and shoving arm loads of stuff into their cars because the thought of bringing anything back into the house made me physically ill. After all was said and done, we made just about enough to cover the cost of fixing the virus that landed on my computer the next morning.