There Are Some Strange Cats Out There

I just returned from the supermarket and saw something on my way out of the parking lot that made me smile. There was a guy, mid twenties, standing in the parking lot next to his car, brushing his teeth. He wasn't trying to hide it either. His head was held high and he was brushing with gusto! 

I loved it! He didn't care who saw him or that this was not a normal way to behave in a parking lot. I don't know his situation- homeless?It didn't look like it. Traveling? Maybe- but, regardless, he was shameless in his brushing. 

Speaking of not so normal behavior, there are some strange cats who come out for yard sales.(Yes, I am going to tie my teeth brushing guy story into my yard sale story.)

 All that junk I showed you a few days ago in my attic ended up here in our yard.

Do you notice something wrong with this yard sale? Remember that it is June and this is Southern California. Rain, Rain Go Away! 

We spent all of Friday night sorting everything into piles. It took over our living room, dining room and entry. Now, I don't deal well with messes so the only thing that got me through the night was that all of the stuff would be outside the next morning. 

We woke up to a light drizzle that turned into actual rain. Mister Baseball was trying to figure out what we should do. He had already put up the shade tent and we had fit as much as we could under there. I looked around my house and said, "Put it all outside because it can't stay in here." So we put it out in the rain. 

We put the signs out and the people came, and very interesting they were.

The first guy to come up was a thin man wearing jeans with jean jacket and long dark stringy hair. He sort of bounded up the driveway and said, "You got any records or instruments?" 

"Nope, sorry" And off he went.

Another guy zoomed up into our driveway on a spiffy, zooomy, colorful motorcycle. He hopped off in his full motorcycle regalia and said, "Whose in charge here?" I promptly pointed to Mister Baseball. Pulling off his helmet, exposing spiky blond hair, he whispered, "You got any guns?" 

"No, no guns." And off he went. 

Then there are the little old men who show up looking for clocks and watches. They are watchmakers. We didn't have any of those either. 

But, not to worry, we had a lot of children's clothes and those (who knew?) were hot items. Whole families would come and go through the clothes, leaving with full bags.

Then there are the hagglers. "How much is this?" they say, examining the item. "A dollar." They then look at the item, look at you and shake their head, look at the item again, put it down and say without shame, "Half price. Fifty cents." Okay, whatever. I stink at this part.

There are also the thieves. I had a lady steal a coffee pot from my last yard sale. This time I had a sneakier thieve. It was a man who asked for a price on an item. I said five dollars. He haggled me down to three. Then, five minutes later, said he didn't want the item and asked for his money back. I gave him the three back. He said, "No, I paid four." Jeepers, I wanted to say, "Liar, liar, pants on FIRE." I wanted to argue, but this man knew exactly where I lived and I wasn't going to make an enemy over one dollar.

Then there are the ladies. The ladies come in pairs and they were my favorite. They make an "event" out of yard sale shopping. They spend the morning together, buy items for each other with excitement, then go do lunch. And they DO NOT haggle. They were the happy buyers.

Mister Luke enjoyed the day the most. I am convinced that he is going to be a business man. He loves the sale and the money. He was throwing prices out there left and right. He was also making some money off of his own toys.

Little Bear was so good all day and Ty and Jack enjoyed selling some donuts we had picked up.

We ended the day by packing up the left overs and taking a few truckloads to the Good Will. 

One last note, sometimes those interesting yard sale shoppers come back. Sunday morning, I was making breakfast and the door bell rang. It was a lady I recognized from the sale. She said, "I forgot my suitcase." She had purchased a small Darth Vader suitcase from Mister Luke. He had started at five dollars and she haggled my kid down to one dollar. Then, she left it at our house. Thus, the reason for her being on my doorstep early on a Sunday morning. She came back for her one dollar suitcase.  I guess it was a good deal!