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September 4, 2012 / mrsdeboots

Yard Steals

Sometimes, I miss living in VA.  I only lived there for a year, and I can say my hoarding tendencies were very well fed there.  In VA, the trash man picks up everything, so on a good night, me and Shane would cruise the neighborhood, usually finding bookcases and chairs, nice wood, and other odds and ends.  The thrift stores were also much much better, and much less expensive.

In Raleigh, I’ve recently found, one must arise on Saturday at the buttcrack of dawn and go to yard sales. 

I’ve been 2 Saturdays in a row, and have found some awesome stuff.  My crown jewel, thus far, has been this item, which officially makes me the best wife ever.


This is a 1953 tooth shade indicator.  Shane collects vintage dentistry junk, and I couldn’t believe my good fortune.  I also got some clothes and decanters and sweet glassware for the bar.  I neglected to take photos of those.  Oops.


Got these stacky hanging shelves, 2 of them for $2.


Clothes to either wear or cut up.


This weird poncho thing I shall destroy, as well as this tank top.


While I do enjoy sleeping in, I usually find that around 6:30am I wake up and feel that I must be doing something. The layout of the new house is such that noise echos, and if B’s sleep pattern is disturbed, the day is officially shot. So, why should I lay in bed, thinking of all the things I need to do? Why shouldn’t I be out, enjoying the rush that I get when I walk away with my arms full of assorted junk?

The only problem I have with yard sales is what I feel is yard sale etiquette.

Like last Saturday, I am rummaging thru a bag of clothing. I am pulling out an item at a time, stacking the ones I don’t want on my knee and the ones I want on another stack. A woman, older that me, grabs the other side of the bag and starts rummaging as well. Fine, I can share. She then decides to dump the bag on the ground, leaving behind a messy pile of clothes in the dirt. When she sees nothing she wants, she wanders away. I mean, really? WTF.

I, being the polite person I am, pick up the pile, dust the bottoms off, and put them back in the bag. I mean, I know it’s junk to the people selling, but it doesn’t mean you have to be dreadful. And this woman speeds away in a Lexus, once again proving money can neither buy commom decency or class.

I went to an advertised yard sale, listing “we are buried in our treasures!”

Um, no. I think the cheapest thing there was $50, and while all the things were awesome, if you are selling a 1890’s dressform, try EBAY. No one wants to spend $296 at a yard sale.

I am very much looking forward to planning my attack route this Saturday.


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