Yard sale: a post-mortem

Well, we made it. It wasn't pretty, and I ended up in the ER, but we made it. Each of the three co-hostesses made well over $200, and although we had quite a bit of crap - er, stuff - left over, I'd say it was a success. Some highlights:

People arrived by 7am. (It was supposed to start at 8.) I had gotten one box outside by that point. Out of about 100. Luckily J was there to make a deal while I sweated profusely and ran back and forth bringing more stuff outside. But it worked - as soon as I wheeled out the bike, it sold. Nuts.

Also sold the stuff that I thought would NEVER sell: some lady bought the entire bag of slightly-used make-up. A man bought both my bag o' CDs AND my bag o' mixed CDs. Um, enjoy, sir.
But things like my Rollerblades and Guitar Hero guitar, and B's futon and TV did not sell. Interesting. It's also kind of a bummer when yard sale "folk" deem your stuff as too ugly/dirty/out of style to even pay $1 for. Whatever.

My neighbor was amazing and let us use his table with an umbrella for shade (as long as we didn't sell it), brought us cut-up watermelon, and would come outside every hour and buy something. Including J's bike helmet which was obviously three sizes too small. Loves it.

A few kind friends showed up to provide puppy love, water, and overall moral support - xoxo.

And then there were my injuries. Bruising is obviously a daily problem for me, one I have come to embrace. But these bruises are like no other. I had to bring the daybed I was selling downstairs by myself the night before. Which involved taking it apart and then putting it back together. And then had to do the same thing in the morning to get it out the door. And that's where the problems occurred. I somehow crushed one hand in the iron frame of the bed, and cut the other one. So at 7:45 am, I was selling stuff and exchanging money with people with a bloody hand (and apparently a bloody skirt - classy). And the crushed hand just didn't get better. As I said, I know my bruises, and I knew this wasn't good. It was really swollen and painful and I couldn't make a fist. So after the sale finally ended I drove to urgent care for an x-ray. Sadly, not broken. (I say "sadly" b/c I would have liked to have had some proof of how much this thing hurt - c'mon doc. How about just an Ace bandage?) Plus I don't think the doctor believed me. She saw the gigantic bruise on my thigh and the cut on my other hand and totally thought I was being abused. She asked, "Are you SURE a bed fell on your hand?" like over and over. Sigh.

But again, all in a (long-ass) day's work. And please god don't make me have another yard sale for a while. Maybe forever.