I Promised You Stories...

So...we've officially survived our first ever garage sale as a married couple, and really, for me, my first EVER garage sale on my own. I've been part of others, but this was my first time to spearhead the thing, and I'm excited about all the things I learned:  what to do and what not to do next time. It was great to have an extra day with Ryan last week, and we really appreciated our moms, who took time from their own busy schedules to help us out.

I promised you stories...and I'm here to deliver.

I read up on Pinterest before I did this thing. I read allllllll these blog posts of advice and what to expect and they were really helpful. And ALL of them warned about the grumpy customers. The ones who want to haggle over pennies. The ones who try to get you so frazzled you end up cutting them more of a deal than you intended. The ones who show up early and get mad if they can't shop. So I was as prepared as I possibly could be.

And as you might imagine, that was a big fat fail.

Interestingly enough, on day one, there were no earlybird customers, and we were grateful because we were still scrambling to set up. A little after 8, Ryan and his mom took the truck to run just down the road for more tables, and I was left alone in a PANIC, because the one job I said I did not want was running the cash box. And of course, as soon as they left, four people showed up and one had a question about Ryan's shop vac and I called and called and called...only to find out both their phones were AT the sale with me. Sigh.

So when they came back and I got them ushered off to take care of things, two women came up to me wanting to purchase one item each, and both items belonged to Nita. I was in the first hour of my first sale and wasn't ready to make deals for other people yet, so I asked them to wait while I found her. The first lady said to the second, "Well I don't know about you but I think if someone offered me something, I would just take it."

Ruffled.

I stammered, "It's not mine. I need to find the person who put it in the sale."

So lady number one said to me, "Listen. If you're up here, you're in charge. You make the decision." The two of them closed in...like physically closed in...and I was so mad, I said, "Fine." Looks of actual glee came over their faces when they knew they'd won...they got their price and I was ruffled. I would have cried if I'd had the time, but I didn't. But can I just say? There's no reason to be nasty over a shirt. There's just not.

So we rushed around after that, helping people and sorting prices and this and that, and between it all, I was attempting to eat a peanut butter and honey sammich for my breakfast. It took me over an hour. FINALLY, I grabbed about the next to the last bite, and when I bit down, it tasted funny.

I said to Ryan, "This tastes weird."

He told me it may have gone bad sitting out in the sun {can peanut butter and honey even go bad?} - so I popped the rest back in the baggie and put it aside. And then a sensation settled over me in such a way that I cannot even explain, except I knew the crunch in my mouth wasn't the peanut butter. I reached in - and pulled out... the remains of a bee.

An actual, honest to goodness bee was on my sandwich and I didn't see it and I bit right into him. And he stung the side of my tongue.

I told Ryan later, I stood there, holding my face, thinking I am in a driveway with my mother, my mother-in-law {who is a nurse}, my PTA husband, and I'm holding a phone with Google capabilities, and I have a feeling NONE of those can help me right now.What do you do when parents, spouses and Google come up short???

Actually, kudos to Ryan, who managed to extract the stinger from my tongue. With his bare hands. No tweezers, I was really impressed.

It felt like I'd had a shot of Novocaine, but I'm not allergic, so I was completely fine. Grossed out and mad, but fine. Nothing a cookie couldn't fix.

The second day of the sale, a nice gentleman stopped by on his bike to look around for a bit. He was there for quite a while, and when he came up to make his purchase, Ryan breezed by and said brightly, "Did you find something halfway interesting?"

I looked down at the table to see what the man found.

A Bible.

I said, "Well, I hope so! It's the Word of God!!" Then I hurried to explain that I have many more Bibles at home and I'm not a heathen selling my Bible...always awkward. But we got a good laugh out of that little story.

What we didn't really laugh about was the rain we had for a bit on Saturday. But we soldiered on, covering up the books and pulling out the umbrella til it passed.

And it was a fun weekend! A successful sale. Oh. And yes. That is a burn on me. Whoopsie. We both got burned to a crisp on Friday.

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