We had a garage sale at my parent's house on Saturday morning. Which proved to be interesting on several accounts. The best part, of course, was making money on stuff you're tired of looking at, that you hate, or you can't re-gift. Chris told me it was the most money I'd made in two years. That part is true. It made me happy, though, that I won't have to use the money he earns to buy him a Christmas gift. Even though he would be fine eliminating gifts all together, I have a hard time going along with that. I love gifts. Both to give and receive.
The other interesting occurrence was when my dad tried to sale one of his old cars. Apparently there were two men interested in the car and while one jumped in to test drive it, the other handed my dad cash and said he'd buy it on the spot. The man test driving it was quite upset. In a rage, in fact. All over an ugly, red Ford Taurus that had seen better days. The three of us, my mom, Chris, and myself didn't know what was going on, as the three men were out in the street with the car. The man who did not score the old beater of a car came storming up to collect the rest of the odds and ends he'd bought and told me that it was a bunch of crap. What was a bunch of crap, I asked him. He just starting muttering more. Then he got more enraged the more he muttered and started raising his voice at my mom who didn't have a clue what was going on and was trying to pacify him by asking if my dad knew he wanted to buy the car. I think that just made him more upset, so Chris asked him if he'd committed to buying the car ,and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Obviously this man needs a few sessions of yoga or some other calming technique, maybe lavender oil, I don't know. He cursed at Chris using some very colorful language and when Chris told him quite nicely that he should leave, he decided to regale the other garage salers with his grasp on four lettered words. Always lovely to make a new friend. I'm glad I was in a calm, serene state of mind--mainly because I was too tired.
Last time someone cursed out a family member in front of me, I ran up to the person, who was in a truck in a parking lot, and told them to leave. When this person said that my family member had almost hit his truck, I told him his truck was a piece of junk, and he shouldn't be upset (it really was, but in retrospect, that probably wasn't the best thing to tell him at the time).
Oh, well. Lesson learned. Garage sales can be times of extreme tension and anxiety. Not just for the person(s) who had to be up at the crack of dawn to exhibit their wares, but also for those perusing the junk for that rare find.