"We are not Art Van"

How many people do you know that DELIVER from their own garage sale?

Well, I know at least one. My husband.

See, it all started with an innocent walk he took around the neighborhood this morning.

The neighborhood, is having a garage sale. In the 10+ years that we've lived here, we've never had a garage sale. As a matter of fact, they don't even include us on the neighborhood distribution list for such things. (Because for years they did, and we never participated.)

Yep, we're THOSE neighbors.

Anyway, Hubby returned from his walk and announced that he was going to "grab a few things, like the unused deck table and chairs, and put 'em out in the driveway to see what we can get".

Suddenly there are car seats, infant bath slings (where the hell have THOSE been hiding?), old gaming systems, pool cues from Hubby's sharkin' days, hose reels (the likes of which have caused swearing that would make sailors blush), books, puzzles, and so on.

Here's the reason I don't do garage sales: it never ends up being JUST the table and chairs (see Exhibit A above) and it takes more than 5 minutes to plan and prepare. Garage sales are an "event" and, at my core, I am an Event Planner. I need signs and labels and categories and SOME semblance of organization.

Our little event is devoid of all these things.

And as the stuff hit the driveway, passersby slowed down, and I had visions of Canal Street (NYC shoutout) bargaining happening in my driveway. For the record, I LOATHE bartering.
So, I am frantically printing signs for the stuff as Hubby surfaces from depths unknown with more, fighting off what, I am certain is, a mini panic-attack.

This is a good time to point out that Hubby is also breaking Garage Sale Having Rule #1: all the stuff is being put in the driveway, HOWEVER, the garage door is open, leaving all the NOT FOR SALE stuff in plain sight.

Picture this: the door from kitchen is open so I can keep an eye out for overzealous bargain shoppers, I type frantically on the laptop attempting to print signs and price tags while Little Man relishes in the new found freedom our now babygateless house affords him.

(About that - yesterday, in one swift move, I "performed" a maneuver that I am CERTAIN would have made Edwin Moses, Greg Lougainis, and Mary Lou Retton simultaneously cringe and then laugh their collective asses off. Let's just say a slight miscalculation on my part ended with the impressive fortress of babygatedness being ripped from 2 walls at once, the tv with a scratch, and me on my ass encased in baby gate pieces parts. Oh, it was a scene.)

So, as all of this is going on, the doorbell rings.

Shit.

It's a lady wanting the (still not cleaned off yet) table and chairs.

I summon (or is it summons?) Hubby from the depths. After all, this is his gig.

She works him for a 20% discount.

Not bad, and I'm thinkin', "Hey, at least we made some cash - and it's better than having to lug the thing to Goodwill or visit the post office (which, anyone that knows me can attest is probably my LEAST favorite place to go)."

Well, joke's on me.

After watching this pack rat (her, not Hubby) try and fit 4 chairs AND a glass top table in an already full Yugo with a crib strapped to the top (CANNOT make this shit up), Hubby can't take it anymore and offers to fill our van and follow her home.

Seriously.

I am now sitting in the driveway with the rest of our gems, wondering what other unbeatable deals Hubby has up his sleeves?!

While he's gone, I am contemplating making some yard signage to increase market awareness of our little sale, something like, "Layaway Options Available" or "You barter, we deliver!"

Got any suggestions?

(Truth be told, I really am glad to be getting rid of some stuff - even if it's a bit unorthodox.)










-- Post From My iPhone