My next door neighbor, Cathy, has a storage unit of stuff, and thought a garage sale would be a good thing. Community garage sale, that is. One little sale lost in two hundred homes could just be lost.
She asked management.
It was a good idea, and they would help, with advertising, which amounted to Facebook.
But Cathy was determined, and worked her fingers to the bone with signs and stuff.
(The other side is red!)
Mr. Next Door, who is moving to Vegas. He's done a garage sale or two in his time. When this lot cleared, he loaded up again. Today he helped get his washer and dryer onto someone's trailer.
Mr. Across the Street. Three tables of his wife's knick knacks, and his truck full of tools.
By this afternoon there was one table of knick nacks, and no tools. Not his first sale, either.
Laura was up and out at seven to help Cathy next Door set up. For orientation, that's my backdoor on the left and Cathy's front door on the right. And her drive way. And, her garage sale.
Laura, taking a break before more set up. The girl in the red top is the middle girl across the street. She's a bit difficult.
I spent two days keeping Cathy company under the umbrella. I cannot imagine putting together a garage sale. I spent too many years putting a professional booth together and know how much has to be done to draw the public. Cathy did a good job.
The little girl from across the street demanding candy and money from Cathy, who wasted a good deal of time reasoning with her. The next time the demands occurred, Cathy and I were sitting under the umbrella. I told the young thing not to speak so meanly. "I will if I want!'
"Not where I can hear," responded I.
She huffed across the street to her porch, by the turquoise truck, where we saw her for the rest of yesterday and all of today.
I wondered if it's my wrinkly face or my wrinkly voice that stops youngsters short.
"Or, something they never heard before," volunteered Cathy, who is exactly the age of my daughters.
This little girl was standing near Cathy this morning, and was quick to point me out to Cathy when I came down the back steps to sit with Cathy. Miss Blue Dress is Miss Yesterday's younger sister. My reputation obviously preceded me. She scored the blue dress from another yard saler; the skirt back has torn away. Miss Blue Dress couldn't care less, and we had a grand day chatting.
Rain is forecast for tomorrow, and Cathy is about wiped out. Probably the end until the second annual.