Yard Sale

 A yard sale is a roller coaster of emotions and probably should not be undertaken by anyone insecure. Fortunately, I had the gumption to undertake such a project on Saturday, so regardless of your level of security you can understand what it's like.

First of all, you lay out all the possessions you want to sell in your yard, lovingly, because after all they are yours. You recall all the times you used them and start to rethink whether you should let them go. You arrange them in a way that you think will show how many cool items you have to sell, because you are such a cool and unique person.

Then you wait for people to come. This is like throwing a party when you don't have friends. Will anyone come? Some people drive by in their cars, slow down, and then drive away. You give them a friendly wave as if it doesn't matter to you at all whether anyone comes and buys your beautiful things.

People arrive. They ask, "How much for this?" because you are the laziest person in the world and didn't put price tags on everything. You justify this to yourself and others by saying that this way people will for sure leave with anything that strikes their fancy. And in fact, you notice that getting items into people's hands is the best way to sell them--once someone touches something, they are very likely to purchase it. This is an interesting psychological tidbit to save for later, in case it may be useful to you in the future.

Two women roll up in a Lexus SUV. You immediately question whether they could want anything you have to offer, because not only their car but also their plastic surgery indicates their socioeconomic status to be above yours. One of the ladies rummages through your jewelry and eventually picks out a real silver bracelet and ring. You say, "Five dollars?" The lady purses her lips at you, so you revert to your "name your price" policy. "Three dollars," she says with finality.

You sit in your yard. For a long time. Fortunately, first thing in the morning you had put up a canopy tent to protect you (and all the stuff) from the blistering sun. This doesn't protect you from the blistering boredom and your allergies to grass pollen; you're sitting close to the grass. You eat two thirds of a can of sour cream and onion Pringles.

Finally, the yard sale comes to an end, by which I mean you reach the worst part of the whole day: in the hot sun you have to put away everything that didn't sell, which is most things. You hoist the furniture back into your home with disappointment--you didn't even sell the furniture items. You box and bag up all the other items and place them in their new home, the back of your car. Lastly you take down the canopy tent and attempt to cram it back into its case, which could be a post in itself.

So there you go, 5 hours and $50 later, you've had a yard sale. Don't say I didn't warn you.