Enemy of Anger

A quick aside before we launch into today’s post. The yard sales weren’t really biting all that much this weekend—one of the more exciting ones I stopped at was selling a massage table and, uhh, this book to go along with it (making me question what sorts of things went on on that massage table)—but I did want to share this one craigslist ad I found:

SO CREEPY! Anyway, back to BOARD GAME WEEK, where nothing’s ever creepy.

Yesterday’s game was BORING. Do you have anything with some action? Maybe some space ships?? Maybe some space ships…in waterspout?? [Edit: that was supposed to say “outer-space” but I’m not always great at typing.]

YESSSS!! GALACTIC WARFARE!!! THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT! CLEAN-UP ON AISLE DEATH!!

Let’s just pop this baby open, and…

Marathon in a Fanny Pack

You guys. YOU GUYS! I went to 25 freakin’ yardsales yesterday! It was the best. …At least I think it was; I’ll let you know when I’ve worked up the energy to crawl back out of bed. (Honey, when you read this post, could you please bring me some cereal?)

Selections from the three (?!?!) maps they gave us for yesterday’s sales.
Crazy-man scrawls are mine.

So it turns out yesterday was my little town’s community-wide yardsale. Yardsales, yardsales as far as the eye could see! (Well, more or less. We actually have burned-out factories as far as the eye can see, but beyond those? Yardsales. Free rusty nail with every purchase.) You could tell it was supposed to be a big deal, because they had way more signs up than they did for, say, last week’s budget referendum. Pretty sure the yardsales had a better turnout, too, which is weird, because they both primarily attract old people and angry bloggers.

They were selling maps for the sales at one of the local diners, rather than just, you know, actually telling us where any of the sales were. I can kinda get why they’d do that—after all, when you’re selling a product, it makes sense to make it as annoying as possible for anyone to buy said product. It’s the same reason why most grocery stores these days charge an entry fee and nobody really knows where Disney World is.

The first few sales I went to hadn’t started setting up yet—which is typical of southern Connecticut, where the “start time” is more of an optimistic suggestion than anything you’d want to follow—but once they kicked off, they kicked it like they were a horse and you were accidentally standing behind it. (…Yeah, metaphors were never really my strong point. It’s like yardsales are the ocean, and I’m a person who’s really bad at metaphors.)

First up: