Recently, my grandmother moved from her home that she has been residing in alone for a few years, to a nursing home. Her home was left in my folks care and they wanted to have a garage sale to clear out all of her many things she has been hoarding over the years. So for the past week my lovely husband Cody, my mother and I have been cleaning out her home. She was a garage sale shopaholic. Not exaggerating whatsoever. Every corner, every tiny little space was chuck full of stuff. Crap. Nonsense that NO ONE would EVER need. Most things probably hadn’t been handled since they were purchased. Many things were still in packages, or still had tags on them from the DI. She had 5 closets full of clothes that hadn’t been worn for years and years. Boxes and boxes (and boxes) of junk jewelry. Rooster statues, TONS of Christmas décor. Crystal animal figurines. This was work. We put it all out in the garage and finally, on Saturday, we had the sale.
Cody and I woke at 5:30 am and got there about 6. We set up tables and started putting things out. We still were not even halfway done an hour later. My parents came and started helping and just as I was setting out Jewelry people started showing at 7:15 with flashlights (serious garage sale-ers). They swarmed around the Jewelry table and from that point on, I didn’t have a second to breath til 7 hours later. People were everywhere. I’ve never seen so many people at a garage sale. Oh yeah, and it was actually somewhat of an “Estate” sale. People could go in the house and look at the furniture in the living rooms. That was the idea anyway. Here is where the nightmare begins.
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