Shelley Terry

Shelley Terry

I forgot how much work it takes to pull off a yard sale.

That’s the only reasonable explanation for my decision to have a three-day yard sale over Memorial Day weekend.

I had hoped Hubby would join in the adventure and sell some of his stuff, but no such luck.

He said the thought of dragging everything that no longer has value to us out of the house so total strangers can walk up and down our sidewalk confirming his suspicions that they have no value to anyone else either was just too much work.

“Next year,” he said.

Yeah, right.

Getting Hubby to part with any of stuff is like finding a McDonald’s with a working ice cream machine. It’s not going to happen.

I reminded him that you never see a U-Haul trailer being towed behind a hearse. In other words, you can’t take it with you.

On the other hand, I believe nothing is sacred when it comes to trying to make money at a yard sale. Nothing.

I would carry stuff out, Hubby would carry it back in. A boxed set of Star Wars VHS in mint condition, a foot massager, an old rocking chair. A rocking chair?

“Not my chair!” he cried.

“You never use it,” I said.

“It’s an antique!” he claimed.

“It’s just old,” I said.

What did Hubby do? After I went to bed that night, he hid the rocking chair! That’s right — he hid it so I couldn’t sell it.

To this day, I don’t know where he stashed that rocker. I do know one thing for sure, he’s off his rocker!

Delightful Granddaughter was just as bad.

“You’re not selling my stuff, are you?” she said.

“Maybe.”

Everything I put out, she carried back in.

Between the two of them, my yard sale wasn’t nearly as big as I had hoped.

In the end, it didn’t matter because I soon realized people just don’t have any money right now.

Thanks to skyrocketing gasoline and food prices, people are not willing to pay much more than $1 for anything.

There were a few sentimental shoppers, who understood my pain. But, by Monday morning, I came to the conclusion that $1, even a quarter, was a good price.

The highlight of the yard sale was getting to spend a couple of days with Sis. She was my best customer!

She brought over a few things for the sale, but ended up buying a lot of my stuff, much to Favorite Brother-in-Law’s chagrin.

We sat out on my front porch and we laughed so loud and carried on so much that people across the street said they could hear us cackling!

A handful of my favorite high school classmates came by to say hello, and we had a great visit. What fun!

A faithful reader stopped because he wanted to meet Hubby in person.

“I want to meet the man behind the Terry Cloth columns!” he said, with a chuckle.

Conveniently, Hubby worked all weekend, disappointing his fans.

By the end of the long weekend, I came away with about $100 and a sunburned face. (I’m like an orchid, so delicate.)

Overall, I enjoyed the weekend until it came time to pack up.

I thought, ‘Now what am I going to do with all the stuff didn’t sell?’

I got a garbage bag and filled it up, and dropped it off at Salvation Army.

Done and done.

Shelley Terry believes life is like a yard sale. You never know what you’re going to get. Write her at sterry@starbeacon.com.

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