Marty decided we should have a yard sale. He has all kinds of yard tools, saws, drills, a work bench, nails, bolts, sprinkler things, electrical stuff, speakers, and on and on. We can’t fit this in a smaller place or have a need for it in an apartment. I said donate it, give it to contractor friends. Anything but a yard sale. He said look through the house and put out what you want to get rid of.
I did not win this one. We had a yard sale today. Our son came over to help us last night. He and his Dad pulled stuff from under the house. They drug out stuff from the garage. I ignored them. A friend came to keep me company and I bitched to her all afternoon. I did feed Marty and son, Erik, a lovely dinner.
We have done yard sales through the years. They have been massive amounts of work, and very little profit. I did not see anyway this one would be different. Well, I was wrong.
We made money. Money that was worth the hard work we all did. I broke down and helped them a little late yesterday. And I was the best salesperson you have ever seen. We earned every penny.
The sale was from 9-2. At 8:30 we had people as we were still setting up. AND they wanted us to cut the price. I just looked at one pushy bitch and said, “We are not open yet. Why would I cut my price? Come back at 1:00.” She left in a huff. I didn’t care.
We met lovely people who will love the treasures we were selling. We met people who have no social skills, and pushed me to the I will kill you point. Our son worked his hiney off. He travels all week and spent his down time helping us. Bless him and his wife.
It was a long, hot day. We survived. All three of us are sore. Being on a concrete driveway for hours and hours will destroy your body. Young or old, this is hard work. We never got to sit down. Then what doesn’t sell must go back somewhere in the house. Erik by himself put most of it back in the garage. Marty and I were with a couple who bought some furniture inside the house.
I still hate yard sales. We made some nice money. But my knees hurt, my back is screaming, and my feet will never forgive me. And Marty, he is in worse shape than I am. Never again. Well until August. We are doing another one as we pack out the house. If we don’t really love it, to the driveway it goes.