Today I woke up at 8am and decided to have a yard sale. This is what happens when you turn 30. It really doesn't get much more exciting than this.
In contrast, E is off in Canada photographing Tom Green. Tom Green is promoting his new ‘hip-hop’ album. Despite being nervous about the success of my yard sale, I am suddenly reassured by the fact that if Tom Green can produce a hip-hop album than I can have a successful yard sale.
It's not really a yard sale per se. After all I live in Brooklyn. Nor is it a stoop sale. I don't have a yard-nor a stoop. I should have wrote 'Sidewalk Sale' on the one sign I hung about five feet from the house 10 minutes before I started but I digress.
No sooner was I out front setting up my bags of crap when a friendly competetor decided to get in on the action. The upstairs neighbor's kid-Em. He is very cute in a ‘I want my two dollars’ kind of way. He pulled out all the yard sale marketing stops by coming down in a pirate’s hat carrying an armload of toys. He was also wearing an hand made, anti-smoking T-shirt. Not only was he trying to make a buck but he was saving lives. What can I say. The kid is a genius.
My first customer was an older, friendly man with a thick South Carolina accent. He looked at the many books on the table and said,
M: Are you a book reviewer?
K: No sir. Just an avid reader
M: I see. I love books myself. I grew up in a very poor family in the South. Reading was such an escape for me.
The man bought my old Gwen Stefani CD (no books) and left.
After my sale Em looked a little peeved.
Em: How much you make?
K: Fifty cents.
Em: Humph. Well...I plan to be out here all day.
With that he asked me to watch his stuff and said he'd be right back. Returning shortly he came back with a giant jug of fresh lemonade and some paper cups in his hands.
K: Wow. Lemonade. How much you sellin' it for?
Em: Two dollars.
The sun blasted. Birds chirped. Not a single human being in sight. My hair soaked up the humidity making me resemble Carrot Top the comedian.
Helen-my senior citizen born and raised in Brooklyn neighbor stopped to say hello.
K: You look nice Helen.
H: I’m goin to church. Havin a junk sale?
H: I’ve been trying to reach you for three days.
H: Knocking on ya window. I signed for a UPS. A package for your lova boy.
K: Sorry. He probably didn't hear you.
H: I saw him sittin there. On the computa. Airconditioning was on. All day. Must be expensive.
K: I'm sure that's why he didn't hear you.
H: (lowering her voice) I think it's booze.
K: E's package? A bottle of booze? Huh...
H: Good thing I don't drink! Or they'd be no package!
H: I’ll come ova after church.
Time passed. A couple of lesbians with small dogs poked through boxes but didn't buy. Sun blasted. Em picked at a scab on his knee. A tumbleweed blew past.
Finally in a bizarre twist of fate a father and son walk over just as I decide to pack things up. Dad picked up the gigantic, heavy, ugly mirror leftover from my first marriage. E and I hate the thing and can't seem to get rid of it.
D: How much?
K: Three bucks.
D: How about one fifty.
K: Um...(image of me lugging the thing back to basement)...SOLD
Em peered over at the transaction.
E: I have some great lemonade over here too!
D: How much?
Em: Two dollars.
KDUNK $2.00 / EM $2.00
And all before 12 noon.