The Road To Hell Is Paved With Yard Sale Signs

I don't suppose I have to tell you that I had a yard sale this weekend; the title of the post says it all. This was the first sale that we've had since 2018 and we were well overdue, which, says an awful lot about my hoarder tendencies, now that I think about it.

Actually, no, hoarders can't bear to part with their possessions and I certainly had no problem with that; it was the gathering up and displaying said possessions for the masses of bargain-hunting, penny-pinching, "will you take ten cents for this item marked at ten dollars", yard sale hunters that make me hate yard sales.

Anyhoodle, 'tis over! We got rid of enough junk to make me feel slightly better about my life choices and I now have room to store the various High School collectibles that make up The Shrine in the Man-Cub's old bedroom. Success! 

The sale took place over Friday and Saturday. Hugh, Mom, the Man-Cub and I spent the time rearranging the tables, hauling out new items to fill in the empty spaces, and just enjoying each other's company. 

The Cub had done an excellent job of cleaning out his old closet, unearthing items that he had long-ago forgotten, including approximately three billion football cards.

We also came across Queen B's old CSI Forensics kit, which brought back fond memories of her obsession with forensic science. It's surprising that she didn't go into criminal justice, but, for now, her obsession with true crime documentaries will suffice.

When all was said and done, we'd made over $500, emptied out some storage, and had a chance for some seriously interesting people watching. Then, on Sunday, I treated Hugh and the Cub to ice cream from the parlor that just opened in Petticoat Junction. It wasn't a terrible way to spend a weekend. 

And, by that, I mean the ice cream. The yard sale part, not so much.

Zero stars, do not recommend (except for the $$$ it raised for banana splits, I mean, obviously).