We had a yard sale today. Good news is that we emptied our stores of plenty of noisy things and someday their new owners will need to do the same.
We recently survived a 4th birthday here and with all the screaming kids came screaming presents. Somehow I forgot that. But where to put them? So about Wednesday of this week, I told the Running Man that he’d need to entertain the adorables for the morning (the older adorable has a recurring horrific memory of a stranger leaving with HIS Buzz Lightyear car from the previous yard sale – not that he’d ever played with it. Ever.). I checked the weather and began to gather items to sell.
In some cases, it was easy. I just pulled down the bins of toys that failed to sell last time.
Sometimes it was hard. There’s this Tiger Xylophone/Piano toy…
…that my adorables just adore. I mean really, really love. Problem is, it makes me want to yank my ears from my head. It is so twangy and noisy and mechanically sounding and excessively piercing and the louder they bang, the louder it gets, which makes it all the more satisfying to repeat.
So I sold it for $5 to a very nice lady with grandchildren and I had pangs of guilt the whole time that I never mentioned how awful, horrific, deafening it was to this lady who was so nice to actually hand me money for it. Without any prompting. But she’ll learn. And I’m hoping she won’t return to my doorstep with her hair dissheveled and look at me with completely disappointed eyes that say, “But we were friendly. Why did you do this to us?”
My apologies to the nice lady.
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