It is no secret to anyone that the hubster and I are avid yard salers. Come Saturday morning, we are armed with our yard sale menu and out the door by 8 a.m. at the latest. We have breakfast around 10ish and swing by the farmer’s market but yard saling is the main attraction. It is sort of like a date morning instead of a date night. “Going” is not an option. I will go. He will go. WE will go unless we are in bed deathly ill or someone is dead.
When we married I had “dabbled” in yard saling. I didn’t know it was dabbling until I introduced it to the hubster. With him, it took. It took with a vengeance. His vengeance rubbed off on me. In the past if I happened to be out Saturday mid morning and I saw a yard sale, I would stop and check it out. I thought that was a big deal but it wasn’t. Not without a menu. A plan. An alarm set for Saturday morning. The car gassed up and ready to go. A review of the menu. Conversation. Weather concerns. Yeah, when the hubster got involved it got BIG. Really BIG.
Now it is a given. Saturday morning. Game on.
