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Lesson Transcript

Yard Sale
"Five o'clock?"
"Yeah, five."
"In the morning, yes."
"You're crazy."
"I'm serious! Look, by that time there will already be at least forty people in line. We've got to get there early before all the good stuff is gone!"
My friend eyes me warily. "Okay. I'll trust you. But there better be some really good stuff, or I'll…"
I laugh. "Yeah, yeah. You'll go home and get back in bed. I guarantee you'll find something." Humph.
It is spring, and the yard sale season has begun in Eastern North Carolina. This coming Saturday, the Methodist church on Sixth Street will hold its annual sale, and it is, as they say, a doozy. It is not to be missed.
I am, admittedly, addicted to yard sales. And since I had my daughter, I have an actual reason to go. Have you seen the prices of children's clothing lately? I am simply not willing to spend twenty-five dollars on a pair of pants that she will outgrow in two months or will stain beyond all recovery in a minute. But I am thrilled to bargain a seller down from ten dollars to seven for an armful of gently used, usually name brand, toddler clothes that I could never afford new.
For the past three years, seventy-five percent of my daughter's wardrobe has come from this one yard sale. I have even stocked up on frilly ballet outfits for when she gets older. And if she's not into ballet, there's always Halloween. But the best find every year has been a winter jacket for the next year. As something she wears about ten times total, I am more than happy to pay two dollars and store it away in the closet.
This Saturday, I'll be ready to feel the rush of the deal, duffel bag on my arm, and sleepy friend in tow.