back in your own back yard

We had another of our famous (well, famous throughout our neighborhood, anyway) yard sales. A Pincus yard sale is a complicated undertaking. Mrs. Pincus, who was born under the zodialogical sign of the "cash register," has retail in her blood. She methodically, and with great conviction, gathers and catalogues and organizes a plethora of.... um..... items that have been accumulated in our house since the last yard sale. She supplements household cast-offs with a selection of stock from her eBay store (No, she won't sell your items. Don't even ask.) A week or so before our scheduled yard sale, our living room and dining room look like a mini Amazon warehouse, with various piles of boxes and crates and stacks of things in somewhat neat rows, waiting to be placed in a prominent spot on our lawn or driveway when the weekend arrives... and hoping to occupy that space for a short while, until a nominal amount of cash makes this stuff someone else's problem.... er.... dream come true.

During the gathering process, Mrs. P posts ads in our local community's Facebook page, as well as local pages on the notorious Craigs List, specifically in the "Philadelphia Suburbs" yard sale section. We also hang signs all over the neighborhood.... and I do mean all over! Pre-sale, our front lawn displays large signs alerting folks of the coming sale. As soon as the first ad is posted, as soon as the first sign is tacked to a utility pole, the questions begin....

Come and get 'em!

Mrs. P got a Facebook message from one interested party. "Can you text me the addresses of all of the families that are participating in your 'Multi-Family' yard sale? I'd like to put them into my GPS." My wife politely replied: "Some people are not comfortable with having their address displayed and were content with just my address in the ad. If you come on Saturday, you will see other people on my block set up at their respective homes." This person was not content with that answer and pressed on with "Well, how many are on your block?" My wife politely responded to that question, too. Later in the day, another question arrived via Facebook, asking — specifically — about the types of records that would be available. Mrs. P replied, explaining that their are a variety of genres and artists represented. A follow-up from the questioner wanted a list of those artists, as well as a list of album titles... just to see if it was worth his while to drive all way the over from Glenside, which is a community less that five minutes from our house. I suggested that she tell this guy that we have a dozen Beatles "butcher covers" and tell him that they all sold for a dollar when he arrives. This is the reason that I don't answer "yard sale" related questions.

Yes, I know what you mean.

Another woman asked if we had one of those things that goes over a cabinet door to dry towels. My wife — again very politely — replied that we do not. The woman continued, explaining what the apparatus was and what she intended to use it for. "I have a lot of padded drying mats and I need a few of those things to drying my mats on." My wife — again, politely — explained that we do not have this item. She continued to tell of how she washes her kitchen utensils, pots, pans and dishes by hand and sets them out on these pads to dry. Now she needs something to hang the mats of so they can dry. For the third time, Mrs. P — politely — stated that we do not have this item she is seeking. (They are readily available, in a variety of configurations, from Amazon starting at $7.99)

Three bucks!

With the front of our house looking like the marketplace in Raiders of the Lost Ark (sans the big guy with the scimitar), the questions continued. People asked for specific items, as though they were browsing the internet, and we were their Google search. While the majority of people were happy and satisfied with our selection and prices (honestly, the stuff was marked really cheap!), apparently some things were not cheap enough for some people. A woman with a small child inquired about the $3.00 price of a brand-new, boxed inflatable swim ring. The woman did not want to pay three bucks for something that truly sells for twice that amount on Amazon or at a Five Below. Her accompanying child was none too pleased by the decision and she stomped off and continued to stomp along, arms crossed defiantly across her chest, as the woman perused some of the offerings at our neighbor's front lawns.

After a long day of wheeling and dealing, the crowds were thinning and the sun was no longer high in the sky. We began to slowly gather up the stuff that was strewn across our front lawn, still making ourselves available to any stragglers. We re-boxed and re-packed our unsold merchandise and relegated it to our back porch, where it will stay until our next yard sale. That stuff will, no doubt be joined by more items that we feel we no longer need.

Old Accomodating Eyes
is back.

Mrs. P casually began checking Facebook messages around 9:00 AM on Sunday morning. She received one sent through our local community's Facebook page. "Hi!," it began, "Yesterday was my daughter's graduation from college and we were unable to come to your yard sale. Do you have anything left? What kind of items do you have left? Would it be okay if I stop by to look or is the stuff all packed up?" I wondered if she phoned Elton John, explaining that she had an appointment to get her taxes filed on the night he performed at the Wells Fargo Center in Philadelphia on the final leg of his Farewell Tour... and would it be okay if she came down the next night and he could perform the show just for her? I wonder if Sir Elton would be accommodating?

There's a chance that we'll have a visitor to our back porch today.

www.jopshpincusiscrying.com