Yard Sales, ie. The Next Olympic Sport

March 26, 2010

in Cheap Expectations

Let me just start by pointing out that I’m married to a 30-yr-old man who is still wearing the jeans he wore in high school.  (Yes, yes, BRAVO to him for still fitting in them…kind of…and BRAVO to him for saving a dollar…but seriously?  They’ve gone beyond faded to WHITE.  I’ve started guessing the color of his underwear whenever he wears them – and have a 50/50 success rate.  Honey- its Time.  PLEASE)

That being said, the Domesticated household is obviously no stranger to yard sales.  The Big Man’s day in Heaven would probably begin with a morning full of yard sales.  The theme for our nursery – Garage Sale Chic.

The Big Man spent literally every weekend, and some weekday mornings, last summer scouring local sales for the best bargains around.  He’d head out at 6am, come back and pick me up around 10 (God Bless him), and continue until 2pm or so.  Until now, I failed to realize the amount of dedication and prowess it took to find the deals he did.

Apparently he was not just out slowly perusing each crap-laden table to find a hidden jewel.  No leisurely strolling through the neighborhood seeking out the perfect  deal.  Reality is- yard sales are a Competitive Sporting event!  Something the rest of us should be watching on ESPN Saturday mornings while we lounge around in our robes and fuzzy slippers chomping down on a big bowl of Captain Crunch. (Or is that just my idea of a morning in Heaven?)  Who knew that all these petite suburban Soccer mom’s spend their early mornings clutching a jumbo Latte in one hand, elbows wide to mark their territory, mobbing tables of other people’s used goods?

But since the Little Man is growing an inch a week and already wearing 12mo. clothes (at 3mos!!), I realized I either needed to win the lottery or start being a garage saler.  Or let the kid run around in just a diaper.  Which has crossed my mind.  If only we didn’t live in the arctic tundra…

So yesterday, at 11am, I roll up to the most promising yard sale for Baby clothes (ie. the one who’s ad started off with BABY CLOTHES!!! in the local paper).  Running through the rain (or hobbling through it lugging my 20lb baby in his carrier), I arrive to find an almost-empty garage.

This is where the HUGE sale is?  Yes, yes it was.  When it started.  At 10am.  Before the local second-hand baby store lady swooped down and bought up 75% of their things.  Including anything that might have fit my kid.  Or been in a color other than pink.


Lesson learned, this morning I showed up right at 8am.  For sales that started at 8am.  Just as two guys in a moving van pull up and start loading up half the garage sale.  A MOVING VAN.  AT 8AM.

These?  Are SERIOUS garage salers.  I feel like a little leaguer on her first day in the Majors.  Or me trying to play a sport.  Any sport.

So tomorrow.  Tomorrow we start at 6am.

And by we, I mean the Big Man.


Donna March 29, 2010 at 9:23 pm

It's painful for the yardsalers,too. I'm like you. I didn't want to open my yardsales before 10am. And that's what time the signs said. But they were at my house, loitering in my driveway at 8. TWO HOURS EARLY. And had no problem rummaging in boxes that were not unpacked for display. Sheesh. And yeah, we sold some pretty awesome stuff for pretty cheap because we didn't want to pay to move it 2200 miles.

Liz & Brian March 28, 2010 at 2:43 pm

hahahaha…garage sales are like that here on base. it's ridiculous! usually there is some really good stuff because people are moving across country and getting rid of stuff they can't move, not necessariy stuff that is crappy and they don't want. the retired AF wives are VICIOUS, though!

Jeve (aka John and Steve) March 27, 2010 at 12:21 pm

Yowsa! I had no idea Yard sales were so cutthroat.

FertKiki March 26, 2010 at 6:39 pm

I think it's a bit unfair for the garage salers to let wholesalers/businesses grab most of the stock. That seems to defeat the purpose of a garage sale, but I guess it's guaranteed moolah. Hope you (Jason) have better luck next time!

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