I’ve heard it said that yard sales are just a waste time. But I don’t believe a word of it. They’re really worth my dime.
It’s very early Saturday. I’m in my Chevy truck. I’ve mapped out my new strategy. Today I’ll have some luck.
That old man just ahead of me, I’ve seen his rig before. He’s headed for the yard sale, better punch it to the floor.
I wave and then I pull ahead. I wonder if he knows. I’m gonna be the first one there. That’s just the way it goes.
“Those yard sales are not right for you,” my good wife says to me. She seems to think that I’m obsessed. For sure I don’t agree.
I take a good look in the mirror. Here comes old Bessy Johnson. That doggone busy woman, she’s meaner than a bison.
I’ve got to keep her in the rear. She loves a good yard sale. Right now I’m feeling awfully stressed. Now inhale! Now exhale!
She’s speeding up beside me in her Cadillac Seville. She frowns at me and speeds away just like I’m standing still.
I might as well forget about that yard sale for the day. She’ll offer them more money. It just seems to be her way.
My wife is right. I guess I’m cursed to have this real obsession. Tonight I must admit to her, “This is my sad confession.”
I think I’m done with yard sales. I have better things to do, like sleeping in on weekends. Yes, my life will be anew.
But wait a minute. What’s ahead? I see old Bessy’s frown. Her car is parked along the road. That Cadillac broke down!
I wave an arm and drive on by. I’m no chauvinistic male. We’re back on track and movin’ on. Let’s get to that yard sale.