Today's the big day: My wife's first garage sale in about eight years. Our house was bursting with toys, clothes, and other stuff, much of it pretty good, but we didn't need it and I was getting tired of twisting my body through the hallways and basement. Marie priced the stuff to move, so hopefully, 48 hours from now, we'll have some summer spending money and a lot less stuff in our house.
The biggest problem: the children. They scarcely want to get rid of anything (except the 13-year-old, who is geeked up about selling his toys from younger days and getting some smoke money). Even Max, the intellectually-plodding two-year-old, has figured out: "If it's outside, it's leaving." As I left for work this morning, he was alternating sad and frantic, as he saw a few big toys in the driveway. He can't speak very well, but he expressed himself today: "Inside, inside," spoken as he tried to tug the toys into the front door. I told my wife, "Good luck with that," then came to the office.
If there's a patron saint of garage sales, please let me know. My wife might need some help.
