This is a Barter-Free Zone

The boys and I went to about 576 garage sales today. It was fun. Even if it was hot and we got in and out of the car, me lugging all that boy weight 576 times. It was fun even if Asher pooped at stop number 490, leaving me to change him while he flailed around the cargo area at the back of the car, dropping little poop nuggets on the seat. Still fun. Garage sales make me think positively for some unexplainable reason.

But they are kind of weird, if you think about it really hard. People stay up late, putting little prices on things they’ve decided are worth much less than what they paid for them. Then they sit outside and watch people mull over whether or not that very low price is worth the effort. Shoppers saunter around, acting all important, turning their noses up at items and putting them back down on the table. Thump. No thank you.

I have had a couple of garage sales this year. I know, a couple. (Over-achiever.) I have some sort of strange problem that makes me love having garage sales. Part of it is normal, I love to purge. Purging is healthy. But secondly, I also love to see what people will do. I wait in anticipation for a barter. It’s a little twisted. The truth is that I could care less. People could walk off with my stuff for free and I’d be happy that it was gone, making the good will boxes that much lighter. But I put prices on things for the thrill of it. Seeing if people will pay for my junk is so interesting. The first lady at a recent sale bought so much stuff I couldn’t figure out how she’d get it in her car. She acted as if she’d hit the jackpot. Then many more trailed through, awkwardly casting glances, and slyly sneaking away empty-handed, making remarks like, “nothing here I can’t live without.” (Um yeah, me either…that’s why it’s out on my drive-way begging to be carried away.)

The most recent sale was last weekend. My brother-in-law and I put our stuff together for a “multi-family” sale (we called it multi-family because there were two of us, from different families, giving the impression of “huge.” See? Savvy huh?)

At this particular sale there was a big roll of painter’s plastic for sale for $1. We had gone half-price in the afternoon. A crabby woman who didn’t get my sense of humor the whole time she was browsing, pointed at the roll and said, “is that what you’ll take for that?” I said, “it’s half-price, making it 50 cents.” She stared at me, bartering with her glare. Long and hard. I grew uneasy and turned to my brother-in-law. “Um, she wants to know if you’ll take…say…25 cents for this?” He stared at me, a bit of disbelief on his face. I stifled a laugh. He stifled a laugh. We said, “take it.” Grumpy lady stared at me some more. I picked up the plastic and lugged it to her car for her, all the while, pretending I was taking this transaction very seriously. She grumped away and we were 25 cents richer, and much lighter on the good will cargo.

People are funny. There is no better place to explore that idea than at a garage sale.

I guess Asher is one of those people. Today at garage sale #1 he picked through the free box until he came up with a bead necklace. (He loves Mardi Gras. Or wait, no. What I mean is that he loves shiny things.) He promptly put the beautiful purple beads around his neck, and did not take them off (except to nap-I do know my crib safety) all day. He cried if I took them off. The nice thing about them is that they ting and scratch against the floor as he crawls. I always know where he is.

And we didn’t even have to haggle. That boy knows how to garage sale, digging through the barter-free box with absolutely no shame. A boy after my own heart.