Garage sale etiquette

I hosted a garage sale last weekend. I was tired of sitting in the garage and listening to a tired 2-year-old chatter incessantly by about noon on day 1. Day 2 was about 9,000 degrees by noon, so the sale did not last much past that.

I've done a sale almost every year since we moved in, and some things will never change. Here are the top five things that annoyed the snot out of me while people are traipsing through my garage buying or not buying my crap treasures.

5. Inevitably, one small child will suddenly have the pressing need to use the bathroom, which is a) right inside the garage, b) covered in laundry and c) in no way even remotely clean since I spent the previous week trying to assemble the garage sale. I am pleasant and accommodating, because, well, hello, my life revolves around pee, and someday I may have to do the same thing. Or find a bush, which we've proven my kids have no problem with.

4. I had black footprints on my kitchen floor after 3 days of all of us running in and out and in and out and in and out of the garage. Like my floor needs extra help to get dirty.

3. Moms, I can understand that letting your kid paw through the 25- and 50-cent boxes is how you can browse. That is why I put them out. But the least you can teach your kids to do is throw the rejects back INTO the box when you're done, instead of leaving everything laying in the middle of the floor. Seriously. But of course, these are the same mothers who leave clothes that used to be folded thrown willy-nilly across the tables. Hmm, apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

2. I had chairs to sell, and guaranteed, every person who spoke a language besides English sat on them, chattering away in Spanish or German, all the while teasing me that they MIGHT be thinking about buying them. NONE of them did. Thankfully someone did take them off my hands.

1. I had probably 2 dozen adult and kids' books for sale. The sign on the table clearly said 50 cents for adult books, 25 for kids books.

One woman browsed, picked up three books, asked me about the author and small-talked about mysteries before putting them down on the table to pay. I politely asked for $1.50.

"They aren't a quarter?" I pointed to the sign and explained, no, they were not.

"Oh then I don't want them. I never pay more than a quarter for my books. That's all I ever mark mine as. If you think you can get 50 cents for them, go for it honey."

And she walked out of the garage.

For the record, I sold almost all of them and my books are in excellent condition, so they're worth a heck of a lot more than 50 cents, you old bat.

I don't think I'll be too eager to have a garage sale next year.