Or the story of how garage sale go-ers make you feel like your stuff is crap.
We had a garage sale a few whiles back, and it was pretty successful. There was many a romance novel to sell; old clothes that we don’t wear any more (but are in perfectly good condition); furniture I’d never seen before which materialized from my in-law’s basement; kitchen appliances that had never been used; handmade soap from my husband’s days as a soap maker; etc. Good shit, seriously.
But you get the people that show up at 7, even though you’ve expressly asked for no early-birds (and she had a cane, I couldn’t just kick her to the curb); the people that sneer when you tell them that you have no fancy antiques that you would like to sell them for a dollar; the people that tell you that your husband’s handmade soap isn’t worth 50 cents and they need ‘a deal’…and so on.
People are freaking cheap. In the end, after the signs and the coffee and the newspaper ads, we came out on top and then some. But jeeze, garage sales are SO not worth the effort. I’m pretty sure that was the longest Sunday of my whole life. Save yourself the trouble and heartache, just call the Goodwill and get them to take your unwanted goods, at least they’ll be nice about it.
Another few whiles back, different whiles, shorter whiles, my husband and I participated in a church craft shindig, for the church where we are technically congregation members. We aren’t exactly the churchly going type; something about liking to sleep in (which isn’t really a good excuse because service is at 11) and feeling like I live a decent enough existence that I feel no need to repent (which the United Church doesn’t really do anyways), but that discussion is for another time.
We were at aforementioned church craft shindig. Selling our wears.
Mine: Necklaces, earrings and some bags that I made over the summer.
Husband’s: Soaps, lavender satchels and bath bombs.
Attendance: About 10 people.
We still managed to do pretty well. Almost everyone bought something from us, and I even got a commission to sew some bags (from my aunt, but it still happened at the craft sale, so it counts). This leads me to believe that people like my craft-y things and, to my husband’s dismay, fuels me to make more stuff and try and guilt people into buying it. That’s pretty much where the plan ends.
Basically, the point of the two stories is that I am looking for new reasons to go to Michael’s and that I am clearing space for which to put my crafty purchases. Micheal’s, spending, crafts, sad husband, etc. And, people that go to church craft sales are not cheap, just garage sales; people that go to church craft sales are lovely, and scarce.
So if you want something sewn, glued, beaded, whatever. I’m your gal.
There are no cute photos to be shown today; I’ve bearly seen the sun in several weeks and I am sick and tired of taking dark depressing photos. When I leave for work, it is mostly dark, and when I get home from work, it is mostly dark, sigh.