Garage Sale. . .

This weekend I was brutally reminded of why I swore off having garge sales over four years ago:  it is a thankless, profitless endeavor.  The weeks of sorting and tossing and purging junk culminated in filling my no-longer-organized garage as well as overflowing into the Uhaul parked next to the house.   I spent the better part of last week pricing and sorting our stuff onto tables just so I could open myself up to the perusal of strangers and neighbors on Saturday as they pawed through my stuff and gave me ridiculously low offers. Offers which I accepted.  And then it rained.  Not just sprinkles but horizontal wind and rain that threatened to blow the boxes of discarded, outgrown clothing right down the street.  Not my best day.  I did, however, have great help.  These four kids made and placed the signs and moved tables and boxes wherever I asked them to:

Sometimes I wonder if things around here will ever get back to normal.  Whatever that is. . .