Yard Sale Daze

Yard sales rock. I am equally please to have them and to browse them. In addition to equal pleasures of finding crap and unloading crap, I truly appreciate the underlying ethic of reuse.

You know what they say... "one man's trash is another man's treasure."

Of course, I prefer my words... "throw a usable item in the trash and I'll break your freakin' legs."

But that's just me....

At any rate, I do have one rant-worthy bit about yard sales in general:

WHO ARE THESE KOOKS THAT SHOW UP EARLY?????

Seriously, I want to give them papercuts - the whole sorry lot of 'em. Painful, slicing cuts of the variety endured by studious academics while flipping diligently through yellow-paged tomes in dimly lit libraries....

And then pour lemon juice on 'em.

I mean, for real: what the hell? I'm trying to haul my shit out into the yard, get it priced and arranged A GOOD HOUR before the sale is set to begin, and all the while my dog is barking vociferously at these early-morning intruders, making me look bad to the neighbors who prefer to SLEEP at this hour on a Saturday.... ACK!

Why do they do this?

I mean, yes, I might have some rare antique treasure, unbeknownst to me, which will be priced at a modest 50 cents... but what are the odds... really?

Are they as good as the odds of me kicking your ass for bugging me?

NOTTTTTTTTTTTTT LIKELY!