Oh, no! Not another yard sale?

Yes, it is time for the annual Courtney family yard sale. Actually it's more my sister Jo Ann's gig, held at my house. Her Homeowners Association does not allow yard sales. But I'm contributing some junk fine, gently used goods to the sale in a continuing effort to unclutter my home.

I think this is the fourth year we have done this, and it doesn't get any easier.

Earlier this week, I read this piece written by my friend Michelle, and posted at Radio Paradise. It is all about the types of  crazies shoppers you encounter at garage and yard sales. Go read it, then come back here, and I'll recount some past encounters proving how true her account is.

Now wasn't that the funniest thing you have ever read? I swear it is all true. Over the past four years I think I have seen them all.

Last year was the worst. Our first attempt at holding the sale was a washout due to strong storms overnight. We decided at the last minute not to risk it. As it turned out, the rain ended and it was sunny the rest of the day.

But the weather didn't stop them from coming. They had read our classified ad in the paper, and I was awakened at 6 a.m. by a crowd of people (The Night Crew) collected below my bedroom window on the driveway. There were about a dozen people there. And the sale wasn't supposed to begin until 9.

They all seemed to know one another. I think they travel in a pack (thus lending credence to the vampire theory). They were peering through the garage door glass to see what was there. Unfortunately, all that was there was an set of dining room furniture waiting to be taken to a local auction house. All of the sale booty was piled in my dining room and living room. For all I know they were probably peering in the front windows of the house. I don't know, as I was trying my best to get back to sleep.

After an hour, they were STILL there. "Why don't you people DIE already?", I wondered, as I buried my head deeper beneath the pillow.

That's when it really started to get weird. The doorbell rang. At 7 o'fucking clock in the morning. I tried to ignore it, but it rang again. So I dressed hurriedly and answered the door. The man standing there wanted to know when the sale was going to start. I told him it was postponed due to the weather.  The rest of the crowd, now standing in the front yard, emitted a collective groan of disappointment and began to disperse. But their spokesman would not be turned away so easily.

He asked me if I would let him into the garage so he could examine the dining room furniture! I told him it was not part of the sale. But he didn't want to hear that. He asked what I was going to do with it. I should have said, "None of your business", but I didn't. I told him it was destined for the auction house. He proceeded to tell me how stupid I was for doing that, He told me I could make more money selling it to him. Of course, he wouldn't quote any figures. I told him to leave, shut the door in his face, and went back to bed.

A week or two later, we finally had a dry weekend, and were able to hold the sale. All of the crap junk gently used merchandise, was still piled inside my house. We got started at 6 a.m. bringing tables out from the backyard where we had stored them and setting them up. As we carried boxes of stuff out the front door to put out on those tables, we had to run a gauntlet of vultures shoppers, lining the sidewalk, trying to grab items out of the boxes.

We didn't even have the cash box ready to take their money and make change. And these assholes people did not want to take no for an answer. They were grabbing armfuls of stuff and setting it aside in piles in the yard, leaving a companion to stand guard as they continued to shop.

Having gotten up so early, I was severely sleep deprived, hungry, and becoming more frustrated by the minute.

We finally got everything out of the house and arranged on the tables as best we could. It was perhaps 8:30 by then, and we were open for business. And business was brisk. We were kept busy answering questions, engaging in bargaining by these jerks wanting us to halve the price of items priced at a dollar or less, and keeping an eye out for shoplifters.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman walking through my front door. INTO MY HOUSE! I ran after her and asked her where she was going. She said she wanted to see if we had anything else that we hadn't brought out yet. For real! She actually said this.

I told her that there was nothing left inside, at which, she  pointed to one of the lamps in my living room and asked me how much I wanted for it. I told her it was not for sale and asked her to get out of my house. She must have really liked the lamp, because she asked if I was sure i didn't want to sell it. That's when I TOLD her to leave. Not just the house, but my property.

She did. In quite a huff. I didn't care.

The rest of the day went much better, once the assholes crazies true enthusiasts has come and gone, but I think we encountered most all of the species that Michelle outlined in the article you read earlier (you DID read the article, didn't you?).

So here it is, after 1 a.m. the day of the sale. Jo Ann is due to arrive at 6 a.m. We will drink lots of coffee, then  we will ring the yard with yellow caution tape to keep the vampires Night Crew at bay while we set everything out.

Wish us luck.

Oh, and I'm thinking about live blogging the sale. With a webcam view for you and everything.

Comments

[Susan]

I just take my stuff to the Goodwill for the tax deduction.