If this were a LiveJournal post, my current mood would be “despondent,” and my current music would be anything by Dashboard Confessional.
I’ve recently discovered that I’m too gun-shy about yardsaling. I spend so much time hemming and hawing over 50-cent items—”but do I really want this? Where would I put it? What could I possibly do with so many binder clips?”—that I think it takes some of the fun out of it, and I don’t end up turning my apartment into a prime candidate for Hoarders, which is of course a shame.
Yesterday, I passed on two items that would have unquestionably changed my life for the better. The first was a computer game called Dairy Queen Tycoon, in which you—and this is from the back of the box—”become the manager of your very own Dairy Queen,” something all little boys dream about. I’m a big fan of goofy sim games like that, but after spending several minutes poring over the box, the manual, and the disc, I couldn’t tell if it was an actual sim game, or a time-management game, which is a completely different type of videogame whose name is derived from the fact that, if you’re playing it, you aren’t doing it. Ultimately I passed on it, but the stupid thing only cost 50 cents, so I really should’ve just taken the chance. I could be mixing my own Blizzards right now!
The other item I passed on is going to keep me up at night for the rest of my life. I feel like my world is a little less magical because I don’t own it. I didn’t take a picture of the item at the sale, because I still don’t have the guts to do that, but amazingly, I came across someone else’s via Google.
Pictured below: the cause of my sorrow.
Photo credit: Cherry Hill Cottage.
I believe the phrase in popular vernacular is “what is this I don’t even”.
It’s exactly what you think it is: It’s a figure of two sheep, and a pear, and it says “Pear of Sheep.” Why? How? I don’t want to know. I never want to know. I’m just head-over-heels with the fact that someone was tickled enough by this extremely clever play on words that they had to create a small statue to commemorate it.
I mean, my God—WHY DON’T I OWN THIS?! It would bring so much joy to my life! How could I ever be upset about anything ever again? All I’d have to do is take one look at this thing and its sheer (or, dare I say it, shear) ridiculousness, and realize that a world that allowed something like this to exist can’t be so bad, after all.
But, I passed on it. It was $4, and I decided that was just too much for me. The shame.
On the plus side, I did manage to snag this:
Which didn’t make me feel any better at all, but I do think it’ll make a great discussion piece come Christmas-time. I picked this up yardsaling with my parents, and on the way back home we spent a good 10 minutes discussing what it could possibly mean. “Maybe it’s a pun—you know, for “Let’s Go?” “I think it’s just a typo; probably made by workers in a foreign country.” “Can ‘snow’ be used as a verb now? Is that possible?” “Sure, if you’re a cloud!” Etc.
Actually, that conversation took place entirely in my head, but you get the idea.
The day’s sales weren’t a total bust, however; in fact, at the very last yard sale, I picked up something (indeed, several somethings) that almost made up for the shear disappointment from earlier. (Yes, I’m going to beat that one into the ground. It’s part of my penance. Shearly you understand.) But I’ll talk about that in a later post.
Total spent: 50 cents (so far!)