We borrowed tables from parents and friends and set them up on the driveway; we blew up tiny balloons (because all of the regular-sized balloons seemed to be on strike) and tied them to the low branches of our 60+ foot maple tree in the front yard. We chased after tote bags and fake plants as the ridiculous wind gusts of Friday gave flight to our lightest items. We then crammed those tables into the garage and were once again thankful we bought a house with two stalls.
Most folks who visit garage sales are what you'd consider "normal" people. They're looking for a deal; maybe some cheap baby clothes or an ice cream maker. But then, there are Those Other People.
Those Other People give off the aura that they know a lot about garage sales - probably because they can be found perusing them most summer weekends. They might be wearing a fanny pack. They might be standing in your driveway at 8:29, waiting for you to open your garage door at the advertised time of 8:30. They might make an appearance at your sale four times in one day. And they definitely will spot the young newlyweds who have never done this before, and aren't really sure what the protocols are.
My first clue about one woman in particular was her eyeliner application. It was... well... crazy.
|This comparison doesn't really do it justice,|
but the Yelling Face is about right.
|This, but more feline.|
She shall henceforth be known as Catwoman.
Anyway - Catwoman had brought along a... granddaughter? A young girl, anyway. We chatted; they seemed nice. They were interested in the microwave we had; they'd come back for it - if we could just hold it for them?
Well, sure, okay - for an hour.
In 20 minutes, Catwoman and Kitty-in-training were back, and with a third companion. Yes, the microwave looked like what this companion wanted! Fabulous! We agreed on a price, and then the lady pulled out a checkbook.
Maybe this is me being new at garage sale-ing, but writing a check at a garage sale doesn't seem... normal. I mean, I don't know who this person is - and if their check doesn't clear, then what? Then I'm out, that's what! This is a cash-only operation, people!
Catwoman reacted with shock, then angry sass when I informed her that her check would not be accepted. "What do you mean, you don't take checks? Everyone at garage sales takes checks! How can you not take a check? You've got to be kidding me! You won't take a check?" And on, and on.
If the eyeliner wasn't a sufficient enough clue, the relentless attempts at wearing me down/bullying me were all the confirmation I needed: Catwoman be crazy.
After she realized that she wasn't winning this attempt at debate, she left - only to come back later in the day with a fourth companion (with money!). She made sure to say within earshot of me, "Well, I'm still upset...", had her companion pay for her stuff, and the group was gone.
In short - the wind, the long hours, and the manual labor were all worth being able to have this story to share.
And my world view of blue eyeliner is forever altered.