Watching my father run a yard sale is painful. He runs around like a chicken with his head cut off, putting more and more stuff out as quickly as possible since the first customers arrived before 7 since he did not put a start time in the newspaper ad, none of it is priced since he has no idea what it's worth and thinks it's possible to make money by letting the people make him their best offer...
Ah well, I suppose I should just be thankful if he doesn't trade it all for three magic beans.
Ah well, I suppose I should just be thankful if he doesn't trade it all for three magic beans.