My friend Jeddy (of GameCola.net fame) started getting into yardsales late last season after moving apartments. This…is one of his stories.
When yardsaling, common sense dictates that you find the best stuff the earlier you go, at the first yardsales you visit. Your competition—aka, your fellow salers—haven’t had a chance to pick through everything yet; the “good stuff” should still be there, waiting for you to hold it up and stand around awkwardly while you wait for someone to tell you how much it costs. (Or is that just me?)
…Theoretically. The problem, however, is that this is a false thing. Over the last several weeks, I’ve been finding that the first few sales of the day are always—ALWAYS—a total bust. Why? I’m not sure. Maybe the good stuff hasn’t been taken out of the attic yet, or maybe the people who start their sales during the wee hours only do so because the only things they need to set up are their three rugs.
Either way, for the first several yardsales today, the most exciting thing I found was this:
Now, I’ll grant you—angelic biker Taz is a pretty rad (and also very specific) collectible. Also confusing; as a rule, I tend to avoid anything that makes me ask “What EXACTLY is going on with that man’s torso?” (No, seriously—what the hell? Are those Taz-shaped pantaloons? Is he standing inside an albino pumpkin? Is…is that what heaven is like?) But it’s not what I drag myself out of bed at…8:30 for. Continue reading
Mmmmmmm. Can you smell that? Other people’s garbage. Unwanted wares, plopped unceremoniously into a yard or garage in hopes that someone with too much money to waste (although frugal enough not to buy things brand-new) will want to part with a quarter or a dollar for the honor of bringing home your rusty old fishing poles, or perhaps your fifth-grade art project.
The 2012 yardsale season starts not with a bang, but with a “Hey, is that a yardsale?” The weather report was calling for rain, so I’d assumed sales would be light-to-nonexistent this Saturday morn’, but lo: on the way to the supermarket, we found it. The season’s first sale. An estate sale, in a house that, from the outside looked nice, although from the inside, it appeared as though one errant stomp might send the whole thing crashing down.
We trod lightly.