I'm all for being resourceful in efforts to bring in some extra cash. I really am.
Selling a few pieces of furniture online. Setting up a lemonade stand. Hosting a garage sale.
Really, all good things.
But can we draw a line with the merchandise?
I went to a garage sale today that brought me to tears...from laughter.
For sale, at the bargain price of 50 cents each...
Large, stretched-out, STAINED, men's white briefs.
I'm not even kidding.
But oh, I wish I was.
I don't care who ya are - I firmly believe you should NEVER buy used underwear.
And most certainly not from this particular merchant.
But to have it laid out, displayed like it was fine china - with all the world to see the years of wear and well, other stuff.
That's just wrong. In fact, there should be a law forbidding it. But I'm not sure how one would even write up a bill like that. You'd think common sense could prevail.
But as I'm making my way out of this establishment - fearing for my life, really - I catch a glimpse of a price tag on one incredibly hideous ceramic cat cookie jar.
That's right. A cookie jar.
Of a cat.
An ugly cat.
I couldn't hold it in any longer. I practically sprinted to my car in order to avoid laughing in front of these people.
MAYBE that cat is a collector's item. I'm not sure. I'm no cookie jar connoisseur, by any means.
But very few things at a garage sale should be priced at $85.
A large appliance.
A small snowblower, perhaps.
But a cookie jar? Of an ugly cat? Again...seems to go against all common sense.
My personal favorite today was walking into a garage to find a very large box - we're talking the size of a small refrigerator - stuffed full of children's shoes. I just assumed they didn't have time to get them all displayed. There was already a large lineup of shoes on the driveway, after all.
I see one shoe on the top of the pile that looks cute, so I shuffle a couple other shoes in search for the mate.
The homeowner gets my attention and says, "Oh, those are all mis-matched. You won't find the other one like it."
I was dumbfounded. I was aghast. I looked at her with astonishment and said, "Really? This WHOLE box is full of shoes missing their match?!"
She smiles and shrugs as she looks at her children gathered around her. "Yeah," she sighs. Then a bit embarrassed, she replies, "I know."
It was tragic, really. Dozens of adorable shoes - some in excellent condition - with no match. How does this happen??
I can understand a lost shoe here and there - but an entire box full of them? That's nearly miraculous.
My mind began to race with all the possibilities of where those shoes could be.
I picture the shoe hanging from an electrical line (evidence a bully came by or a teenager pulled a prank).
Or on the street. (perhaps it fell out during a Chinese fire drill?)
Or ferociously chewed to bits by the family dog. (naughty Fido)
Whatever the reason, I was puzzled as to why they would even be offered up for sale.
You're expecting a lot if you think a one-footed customer could happen to - well - hop in.
I suppose it could be helpful for that kid who ended up in a cast and doesn't want to wear out one shoe while they wait for their foot, ankle or leg to heal. This is a perfect solution in that case.
But even a cast is only on for about 6 weeks. A couple shoes should suffice.
Personally, I would have just pitched them.
They would have fit nicely in the garbage truck next to those nasty tightie-whities.