Musings: And So It Goes...

So, I found it highly amusing that one mere morning after my "note" about garage sales, I found myself presented with the gift of the neighborhood garage sale.

At precisely 8:28 this morning our doorbell rang. Too early for the post, but who the fuck could it be?

Lo and behold, it was Jared, the 11 year old from across the street, cheerfully reminding us that today was garage sale day in our neighborhood. True to our sick style, we all scurried to get breasts corralled in bras (okay that was only me), everyone else ran to throw on shorts and t-shirts so that we'd be ready to go. We quickly digested cereal and loaded into Chris' truck to scour the neighborhood.

The kids immediately spied a house that had a varied assortment of kids toys splayed out upon tarps and second hand quilts. One quick glance and I knew it was bonafide crappola. I immediately retreated to the car to call my sister, leaving Chris to deal with what I considered unnecessary nonsense.

You see, it's perfectly fine for me to want meaningless shit to bring into the house, but when the kids do, oh my..I can't even deal with it. I think we left that house with a remote control car, two annoying lazer guns, and a retractable telescope.

Anyway, I digress. Knowing that I had JUST confessed my deepest secret to you all, I was SO hoping to strike gold today and bring back a gem that proved, in flesh and blood, that my obsession was noble and worthwhile, or at the very least interesting.

And yet, nothing! The only things that even remotely got my pulse racing was a two room tent (oh the fun mom and dad could have just one zippered sheet of fabric away) and a child sized baton. Problem is, I really don't care for camping and the baton just conjured up memories of thick, thighed twirlers in nude colored panty hose and lipstick in shades of red that should have been discontinued before the space program took flight. Definitely not worth the money.

So, for all my glorified spewage yesterday about other people's trash, I came up completely empty handed. There were no fabulously vintage dresses that some bored dentist's wife wore as she flirted with her husband's golf buddy. No prom dresses that lost their virginity along with the anxious teen who squeezed herself into it.

I didn't even find any funky smelling Tupperware!

Oh, well...maybe next time.