Day 7

Today was a lot like yesterday, only I think I was a little less crabby.

You’d be amazed at what people will and won’t buy.

Depression glass at less than half of what you’d pay at antique store or something that will keep going up in value year after year, no thanks. A transistor radio that may or may not work, bath towels that are barely big enough to wrap around a child, sure why not.

Patterns that went out of style by the time they hit shelves, at 5 cents each, sure why not.

If you brave the sea of clothes and find any treasures you can have ‘em for 10 cents each, and if it’s obviously stained, it’s FREE. The saddest part about that is that someone bought stained black work shirts. I didn’t charge him for them, he realized it and came back and paid for them. I just wanted to get rid of them, he didn’t want charity. Oh well, right?

We’ve sold dresses that we’ve made, dresses that we haven’t worn in 10-20 years, dresses that no one should ever wear again. But people aren’t buying the nicer pieces of clothing that will actually last, and at $1 it’s not like they’re overpriced.

We’ve met more neighbors in two days than we have the six or seven weeks Sue has lived here. The only problem we had was when people kept blocking the neighbor’s driveway. Which in all honesty is just plain rude and I don’t get why people think it’s ok. So at the end of the day when he came home we went over to talk to him. You know, just to say, “hey, I’m sorry people were blocking your driveway and I made a sign so hopefully they won’t do it anymore.”

He was really cool about it. We got to talking and asked him what he did. He said he was a Rapper. And while we knew that he didn’t mean he wrapped gifts at Nordstroms, we weren’t really sure what qualified him as a “Rapper.” Come to find out he actually has an album that was released recently and is available at Virgin and FYE stores. While I sheepishly admitted that, um, I listen to mostly country, I would respect his privacy and not announce to the world who he was and where he lived. So no more details on him for you. Sorry.

So while the girls zoned out and enjoyed some jello after dinner I counted the loot like I was in some back-room-don’t-tell-the-cops-we’re-here-poker-game.

(Someday I’ll come up with better titles, but for now I’m doing good to string together two coherent thoughts.)