Children of the Garage Sale

Anyone who has ever had a garage sale probably knows all too well the the insanity of the event.

C and I signed up for a neighborhood, realtor sponsored garage sale. We needed to get rid of a ton of stuff that we just don't use, and don't need. The leftovers were to be donated to charity.

The realtor did all of the advertising, signs, and even printed little maps with other participants in it we were supposed to hand out.

The hours of said garage sale were "8am to 4pm".

HAH!

We started unloading items at 6:32 a.m. At 6:32.5 a.m., a truck pulled up in the twilight and offered to help us set up. At 6:35 a.m., three more vehicles descended on us and our junk.

Box lids were flying, items were being picked through, and calls of "how much for this" were heard.

I just kept punting to C. I can't deal with pushy garage sale pros. If I were going to answer out loud, it would have been "How about you guys just back the fuck off for 30 minutes and let us get our junk in order? Do you read? Can you read? Because this isn't supposed to be "on" until 8:00 a.m."

We had a steady flow of people until about 8:45, when 50% of our stuff had been paid for and taken away. By 9:30 a.m., 75 to 80% of it had been sold. We were done by noon.

Sold means prices were established, haggling* was had, and people took our stuff away.

*I called the haggling bickering. C - "It's haggling honey, not bickering." Zoom - "...feels like bickering."

I'd say something was .25 and they would demand I come down to .10. And I didn't have the energy to care, nor did I want to be left with things to put back in boxes. C and I had gotten up at 5:30 a.m. for this, and by 8 a.m. we were a couple of zombies.

And in the world's cruel calendaring style we have become accustomed to, we had a wedding of a good friend to attend that same day at 4:45 p.m.

There were really fun parts of the sale too. The children were the best to watch. With one exception which I will address later. But one little girl had picked up a teddy bear and was so adorable with her lawyer negotiation style of railroading dad into bying it. It wasn't snotty, or spoiled or anything like that. It was just cute, smart and oozed with charisma.

C started giving away toys to all of the little kids who became attached to one thing or the other. And when there were brothers and sisters involved, he'd say "oooh, I gave you something, now I need to give something to your brother/sister, or they will be jealous, huh." That part, I must say, was my favorite.

There was a set of brothers. One older than the other by about 2 years, if I had to guess. C had a set of Hulk Hands - giant green glove like things that make hulk noises when you hit them - that he gave to the older brother. The kid walked straight over to his little brother and socked him as hard as he could in the shoulder. The smaller boy fell to the grass and started to cry that "I should cry but I'm not really hurt cry." The parents didn't even flinch. We checked on the children and they appeared to be just fine. But I kept thinking "Of course he ran over and beat up his brother with an item we just gave him. Because that's how my child experiences go. They are either "special" and I yell at them, or I try and be nice up front and it ends up in tears and possible permanent damage. Good freaking grief."

I'm pretty sure that Satan's offspring is currently being driven around town in a tan, four door sedan. Strapped in a car seat. This child frightened the soul out of at least 10 adults. I was afraid to approach the general area without the aid of at least one ice hockey stick in my hands.

Things were going along normally, when suddenly a sickening sound made every person in a half mile radius stop in their tracks and look for the source. We looked to our left and saw the Satanmobile with Jr. strapped into his car seat in the back. No one could beleive the noise we had just heard came from that child, so we just ignored it and went back to our activities.

Seconds later, a thick scream pierced our ears again, this time with commands: "GEEEET BACK HERE DAMMIT RIGHT NOW THIS SECOND!" "YOU, MOM COME BACK NOOOOW, AND I MEAN NOW!" Anyone else seen Emily Rose? Because that is EXACTLY what it sounded like. C said he literally thought the child was on fire. The Mom didn't even blink. She just kept browsing.

I'm positive I can go another 10 years before I participate in another garage sale.