Yard sales

(The following is a true story.)

A few years ago, my mom, my sister, my aunt and my cousin spent a day together shopping, eating and hitting yard sales. After consuming a few "pops," they were walking through the neighborhood and came upon a home with all sorts of items on the lawn.

Dressers, clocks, lamps, clothes ... there was a huge selection to look at. While they roamed the yard, they didn't really see anything they liked, but kept looking. They not-so-quietly cattily chatted back and forth ("who would want this?" ... "no, I don't like that at all" ... "what is that?" ..."oh, maybe I'd offer a dollar for it" ... "who'd buy any of this stuff? it's crap") while inspecting - and dissecting - every single item.

While they were looking through the belongings, the woman who owned the house was watching them from the porch. When they finally found something to buy, they took it up to her, asking how much she wanted for it.

The woman glared at the four of them. Her only response: "We're not having a yard sale. We're moving."

They haven't gone yard-saling since.