'Tis the Season of the Garage Sale

I stopped at a garage sale the other day. I like going to garage sales for the same reasons as other people might have. Looking at other people's crap and deciding I might need it, is actually kind of fun for me. But I also go because I like to people watch. Watching the other potential buyers is way fun. I like to think that I am at the top of the totem pole of garage salers.

I saw a woman the other day that wanted to try on a 50 cent pair of jeans. She was actually arguing with the owner of the sale, saying that she wouldn't buy it if she couldn't try it on. The owner basically said I don't care, it's 50 cents for cripes sake.

Another person pulled up and was carrying a bag of stuff. I didn't think anything of it, until I just happened to overhear the conversation this chick was having with the owner of the sale. The chick wanted to take the blouse back that she had bought, because it didn't fit! What did she think, that she was at a Walmart? These people don't want to take stuff back, they are trying too hard to get rid of it.

Sometimes I just gotta shake my head at the antics of stupid people. It reminds me of one of the few times I have had a garage sale. We lived in Indiana and out there, they call 'em rummage sales. My mother-in-law says, "Hey, Kimberly. Do you want to go rummaging?" I never said anything but it always made me think of dumpsters. Dumpster diving is not on my list of favorite things to do. Anyway, we had quite a bit of stuff we were getting rid of, and I made the mistake of advertising in the newspaper. I specifically said "NO EARLY BIRDS 9-5". That's what the mother-in-law said to do. Guess what? It didn't work.

Some woman knocked on my door at 6:30 AM!! I kid you not! I wasn't even awake yet. Pre-coffee. I answered the door, thinking maybe somebody needed help or something. She seemed not to notice the sleep goo still in my eyes, the pajamas, or the fact that my hair was sticking straight up, when she asked me, "Exactly what kind of furniture do you have?" Huh? At this point I had only been awake for about a minute. I said, "Excuse me?" She patiently repeated her request. I told her to come back at nine. I started to close the door and she actually stuck her foot in it to keep it from shutting. The she started to explain that she was on her way to work and didn't want to miss all the good stuff, blah, blah, blah. I can't believe she actually thought that I would let her in my house at 6:30 in the morning. We weren't even set up yet. I told her sorry and again tried to shut the door, this time successfully. But here is the real kicker to the story.

She then came back. At around 6:00pm that night. We'd already covered the tables and packed it in for the day, and were eating dinner. (the ad said 9-5, remember?). I let my husband take care of it that time. I was afraid I might do something bad to this person. I hate stupid people, but I hate rude people who have no sense even worse. Maybe she really needed furniture. I don't know, and I don't care.

Anyway, I guess there are good and bad parts to garage saleing/rummaging. But I would rather go to a sale then have one. Amen.

Roses Are Red, Yada, Yada, Yada

I love spring. Yesterday I spent about two and a half hours weeding. Of course any good gardener knows that the best way to get the weeds is on your hands and knees. But there is something new I learned afterwards.

After I finished weeding I went and hopped into the shower and changed. I threw some shorts on. No big deal, right? Wrong. I couldn't figure out why a couple of people looked at me funny while I was cruising through the grocery store. It wasn't until this old fart, down right smirked at me while I was checking out the eggs. By then I was getting a little annoyed.

I guess I finally snapped. I looked him square in the eye, and asked, "What!?"
He just chuckled and pointed at my knees. I looked down with an inward groan and a mental head slap. I now understood why people were looking at me funny. They were all perverts.

Apparently, from what I could see, my knees looked like I had a bad case of rug burn, or something equivalent on them. And it also became apparent what these dirty minded people thought I must of been doing to get such red knees. Jeez.

There was nothing else I could do but endure the rest of my shopping trip, and the stares. This "garden hoe" has nothing if not pride. Plus, I wasn't done shopping.