Today I caught Mom washing the old, grungy knobs I took off my kitchen cabinets when we did our lick-and-a-promise remodel. She is carefully matching each knob to a screw and putting them in individual bags. To think I almost threw them away and missed out on a nice sale! Mom, I love you!
Dennis has become rabid in his pursuit of all marketing outlets for the greater-Small Town area, hitting all the newspapers, flyers and online lists in the county. My only request was to be sure all the ads said, "8 to 2," and "NO EARLY BIRDS" because, well, I think we will have enough of a hard time hauling our bods out of bed - if we even get to bed that night, and I know clean-up takes twice as long as set up.
Dennis takes things like this seriously, so in addition to purchasing garage sale signs to plaster on virtually every corner in Small Town (it sounds like more than it is), he bought a roll of POLICE CAUTION TAPE.
Yup, that's my man. People will wonder if it's a yard sale or a crime scene. Whatever works.
Everything seemed to be going fine until we read this week's edition of the paper (no, we don't have enough news around here for a daily), in which I was horrified to read that our sale will be starting at 7 a.m.
We are gonna die.
***In other news, Ruthie-5 got ahold of the camera again.
And I leave you with a quote from Libby-11.
Last night she was sitting with me on the sofa, eyes closed, barely able to keep her head up. I was telling her it was time to go to bed. She yawned and said, "I'm not tired. I'm just worn out."