Garage Sale Blues

Today was my second annual (and last) garage sale. I hate having them to begin with. All the lugging stuff downstairs, cleaning stuff up, making sure it works right, figuring out what to charge for everything, finding tables and ways to display everything. Then you have to deal with all the people who think $5 is too much to pay for a perfectly great TV set. I want to tell them to go buy a new one for about a 100 times that or more. But I silently hold my tongue. I couldn't take a break and just run to the bathroom because my daughter couldn't be here to help me today. People were nosing about in my garage, although all my for sale items were in front of the garage, asking how much for this and how much for that. ("Um, no that freezer is not for sale.") I think, though, the worst of this is dealing with all these people rifling through my husband's belongings like it's the clearance bin at KMart. My husband took great pride in collecting hunting clothing, utilities and gear. He took good care of what he had and bought quality goods. It's painful to hear people who have no idea what they're talking about nitpicking his things and the little insulting jabs that always seem to follow. If they want to pick through my stuff and make fun of it or put it down, fine. I can take it. But this has gotten to be too much. There was one moment, and I know the guy didn't know any better, but I got a little hot under the collar. Someone looked at my display of hunting clothing and said "Wow your husband is going to be pretty mad when he gets home." Lucky for him I didn't say anything but, word to the wise, never open your mouth if you don't know the whole story.