Saturday, March 20, 2004

yard sale day

It was the first hot day here in Southern Oregon. I made about 250 bucks in a couple of hours. My neighbors bought my shit. Thanks to one and all. My observations of the day: the men show up first. They know what they want, sports equipment, fishing gear, tools. Not many of them want to shop. There are the junkies, the master buyers, always acting naive and surprised at the relative value I place on garbage. I tell them I price it for what I'd pay if I was in a good mood. If they want it, they pay. They're always after my patio chairs, metal, forties style bouncers. I love them and would not sell them to anyone. They may rust in Portland. Then the women show up.... they look, and buy less, generally, than the men. I got three fairly serious offers on my house. They actually wanted to buy the yard. The dog goes with it, I reminded them.

The collie lady showed up, the collie rescue lady. Did I mention her before? Oh, major oversight. When I was trying to find a home for Bailey, you may or may not remember, I called the pound. They gave me the number for collie rescue. Well, this bitch calls me back and asks me if Bailey has had all his shots and whether or not he has been groomed recently. "So, you only rescue well-groomed animals?" I wanted to ask. I told her he had been groomed and she asked about his nails. claws. paws. whatever... I was annoyed. She promised to consider rescuing him. I wondered, then, at her background, the improbability that she was in any other way acquainted with the term rescue. Talk about placing help line on hold. Anyway, Bailey is staying here. The tenants are keeping him. fine. Well, the collie lady showed up and wanted to dispute the tenant's ability to keep the dog. "They'll move" she assured me. Yes, I suppose they will. She claimed to know a nice woman with a farm that would see to him, keep him in a kennel, far from harm. I'm sure his nails will be done regularly, but I just think he'll be happier at home. It creeped me out that she knew where I lived. I didn't tell her. She knew because for years she has been walking by my house, stalking my dog, and when I called for a rescue, she acted like she didn't know who I even was. I certainly didn't know I was talking to my neighbor. Maybe someone will build a kennel for her.

One of the items for sale that created the most interest was the navajo treasure. It is, or was, a two-foot tall clay structure of unknown origin. Looked to me like it had been created during a seventh grade pottery class. It had a blue design baked into it, geometric. I don't know where it came from or how I got it.

Now that the garage sale is over, I am closer than ever to moving. Today was hard. I got rid of the red chair. Jan bought it. There is comfort in that, the first concession of my married life.

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