It’s been a rocky start to the 2014 yardsale season. My mother’s crocuses have started popping up, which I’m told is a sign that spring has officially sprung, although I’ve always had one question about that, and that is—”hey, what are crocuses?” (She thinks I’m kidding. Sorry Mom.)
Thanks to the weather basically being always winter (and never Christmas), most of your normal yardsale tycoons haven’t started piling junk into their front lawns yet, so the few sales I’ve been finding have tended to fall into one of two categories:
1) Creeper Sales
You know the type—there’s a sign outside that says “yardsale today!”, but there’s nothing on the lawn. No person is standing outside. The shades are drawn and the door is closed; the lights are dim. The door might even be locked. You think that if you go inside, there’s a 50% chance that it’ll reek of cat pee, and a 100% chance that you’ll find Anthony Perkins sitting there in a wig. They look sort of like this:
I don’t think it’s any coincidence that my wife and I saw the New England Spiritual Team racing by earlier today in their mystery machine.
I found two of these creeper sales this week, and three last week. I always feel somewhat robbed when I find them—which is ironic, because that’s exactly what would happen if I ever went inside. They’re basically the “want some candy, little boy?” of yardsales. No one’s ever reported coming back from one alive.
On the other hand, you’ve got…sort of the opposite of that (although with the same probability of dying):
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