For Sale

My fingers are numb from the cold, my head hurts and I'm exhausted. I didn't exactly do anything too physically exhausting today, I just tried to sell a few things at a local flea market. I've been going through my boxes and have been separating the items I truly need from the ones
I'm too attached to to give up and those that I
have no idea why I've held onto them and I refuse to cart them around the world anymore. You'd be surprised how much stuff fell into that last category. Seriously, a sandwich grill? What the crap? Why do I have this? When have I ever grilled sandwiches, let alone needed a device to do it for me? (If you're interested though it's in pristine condition and is selling for $6). We loaded up the van at 7:30 this morning and drove to a large outdoor flea market held year-round in an old drive-thru movie theatre. You wouldn't believe how many vendors were there that early.Everything you could possibly imagine was being laid out on dirty wooden tables with patches of pink paint scratched off (rentable for $2.50). A few items: vegetables, cds, laptops, rugs, tables and tables of jeans, bras, dvds, Hot Wheels collectible cars, Christmas decorations, washing machines, dryers, fridges, perfume tables, various crock pots of all shapes and sizes, stuffed animals and the list goes on and on. The sun was still creeping into the sky and the frost that fell overnight was very slowing melting. It was only about zero degrees outside and we were all bundled up in our winter coats, gloves and hats. I was going strictly for business people, not fashion...as this photo clearly illustrates. Unfortunately for my extremities, the temperature only went up to about 5 degrees and I sat outside on a lawn chair for seven hours. I've been to a fair number of flea markets and have sat behind a table or two in my time. However I've never quite experienced the unsettling phenomenon that occurred this morning. We had literally just parked the van and had set down the first box when we were suddenly surrounded by other vendors, standing a mere few inches from our bodies, anxiously scrutinizing our wares. A few touched things, and moved items around in the larger boxes before we could set them out, but they didn't speak or acknowledge our presence. They just hovered, looking like they were ready to pounce which caused me to imagine flies swarming around a carcass, only we were the carcass. I wondered if we had taken someone's spot. Then I wondered if they were looking at my things, wanting to buy a few, then resell them for a higher price. It wouldn't be the first time I'd heard of it happening. My parents went to a yard sale last summer to sell a few things before their move and after they sold an old quilting rack to their real estate agent who just happened to be there selling things at her own table, they later saw a couple walking to their car with the same rack the agent had bought but had turned around and sold for a profit! Here are my two problems with that; 1) she had just helped my parent's sell their house and received a large commission. Where the hell was her sense of professionalism and common curtsey? What kind of money driven fiend does something like that? And 2) she sold it at the same giant yard sale as my parents and was only a few metres away. She couldn't even freaking have the decency to wait until either my parents had left or sold it at another time! I feel that if I had been there, I would have marched up to her table, called her a money grubbing bitch and then knocked a couple of things off her table. Yeah, that'd show her! Anyhow, after about 15 minutes of looking and examining my things, the vendors all kind of petered away, but the effect was lasting. I felt kind of creeped out. I used to have problems with claustrophobia but fortunately living in Japan took care of that. However, I hadn't felt quite so encroached on since then. It was a little unnerving. Actually, a lot. Anyhow, as the sun rose the buyers trickled in and I managed to sell a few things, not nearly as much as I'd wanted to, but enough for now. In Virginia however, flea markets are taxed and I was supposed to pay 5% tax on what I sold. No one was at the gate when we left though so we peeled outta there! I won't bother you with how much I made. Lets just say I might be having a yard sale in the not too distant future. Anyone interested in a pair of stilts or a camera tripod?