My neighbor who’s having her second garage sale this month.
I passed your barely legible paper-and-marker signs on my ride to the station–barely legible from the bike, and surely completely unreadable from a car–and noticed you’d crossed out references to July 7 and 8, the dates of your garage sale two weeks ago, and replaced them with the new dates: July 21-22.
I’d seen you out there the day before, climbing up to reach the signs. I was sure you were taken them down, since your sale had come and gone.
C’mon. Really? If your stuff didn’t sell two weeks ago,I promise youit will not sell this weekend.
We usually hop over to the yard sales in the neighborhood, see if we can pick up the odd item for the kiddies: Lightning McQueen roller skates for Little G. A stuffed animal for Little Miss C. Books. Sports stuff.
We skipped yours, even though it’s on the block. What would we find: Empty perfume bottles? Barely used flypaper? Truck tire rims? A rusted 7-iron? A dented flugelhorn?
If by chance you had something worthwhile to sell, it surely sold at the last sale. What could possibly be left to hawk this weekend?
Here’s a deal for you, Neighbor Who’s Having Her Second Garage Sale This Month. Friday evening, 12 hours before the creeps start lining up on our block (uh, what part of No Early Birds don’t you understand?), I’ll buy your stuff for 10 bucks. I’ll donate it to those nice men in the yellow shirts who come around with the big truck Tuesdays and Fridays.
You get paid. We keep the cars from driving up and down our little block. The guys in the yellow shirts get to crush some stuff. Everyone wins.
Sincerely,
Trainjotting
[image: morningtoast.com]
love the open letters. Always funny.