I love sales. There is absolutely nothing that gets my adrenaline up like a sale – especially a garage sale. Driving down city streets on weekends, I keep my eyes peeled for those almost unreadable signs prominently displayed on street corners, pointing the way to a yard sale.
As I slow to a snail’s crawl to read the directions, I hear the sound of brakes squealing and horns honking wildly. I don’t pay much attention to the chaos behind me. My mind is on the terrific bargains I’m going to find. Have you ever seen the bumper stickers that say, “I brake for garage sales”? I need one of those stickers.
Garage sales are a great way to clothe the kids and the hubby. When I was married to Mr. Ex, I bought almost all of his shirts at yard sales. He never complained. He couldn’t tell the difference between those and the new ones.
I found bicycles for my kids, plants and pictures for the house and once I was really nice and bought my “ex” a four-wheeler for hunting season. It was painted in camouflage green, grey and brown. Attached to this four-wheel, man-toy was a hunting bow, a bow rack and saddle bags, all for only $100.
I was so proud of myself and I just knew my (now ex) hubby would show his appreciation by at least taking me out to dinner. I know, I know – dumb idea. Instead he took me to the deer lease to show off his new toy to his hunting buddies.
Once the kids, dogs, cats and ferrets (and other miscellaneous pets) had their way with the furniture, eating and beating it down to the bare wood, I found a remarkable, never used, gargantuan sofa.
This piece of furniture was nine feet of hideous, yellow, green and cream-colored comfort. Over several years, the couch took on subtle shades of gray cat hair, white dog hair and the stains of teenagers' feeding frenzies.
I tried covering it with sheets, bought the largest sofa cover I could find and finally just piled all my junk boxes on it so I wouldn’t have to look at it.
Four times I moved with that sofa. Each time, I had friends who helped me move and one of them would end up with a hernia. Of course, I don’t use the same friends every time.
The last time the couch moved without me. Son and his wife, who were just starting off their married life with child number one, took it off my hands. I ended up with boxes of “stuff” and nowhere to put them.
But I always found great bargains – a white wicker chair for only $10 and bar stools for five bucks each. I’m even still using the television set I bought nearly 25 years ago for $50. So, it doesn’t have a remote – it still works and I get my exercise getting up and down to change channels.
Bargain hunting - rather garage sales - are in my blood, and as my son used to tell our friends, “Our house is furnished in early garbage sale”.
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