Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman

****I wrote this last year when I was having a yardsale. I'm having another sale this year and everything is still pretty much the same. Enjoy!**** So, I was crazy enough to have another yard sale before winter set in, by myself. I asked mom if she wanted to come help but she thought I was nuts for trying to have a sale this late in the year and she wasn't participating. (I guess it didn't matter that I was selling some of her stuff) Anyhow, midway between my umpteenth visit to the basement, attic, and storage building, my back gave out. I backed into the metal part on my utility trailer and gave myself a six inch long bruise and then I sprained my ankle when I doubled over in pain from bumping the trailer. Needless to say, it was after 10:30 AM this morning before I had put my signs up by the road, and by yard sale standards, that was extremely late if I hoped to make any money. Since I live at the bottom of a hill I get a lot of folks that slow down and then realize that I am at the bottom of a hill and keep on going. Fine! If you're too lazy to get out and look then you probably want to complain about the prices of everything and want me to sell you a twenty-five dollar item for twenty-five cents. Keep going, I don't want your business anyway. The first guy that pulled up wanted to by my utility trailer. The second guy that pulled up wanted to buy my utility trailer. The third guy that pulled up wanted to buy my utility trailer. The fourth guy that pulled up wanted to know if I had any mowers I wanted to get rid of. Now, that's a loaded question. I've discussed before about my piece of crap mower and what you don't know is that the danged thing broke down again earlier this year. I took the guy to the basement and showed him the mower and he started asking if my tools, my fishing poles, and my Christmas decorations were for sale. He made me a tad nervous so I hightailed it back up front. Weirdo. Later, someone wanted to buy my leaf rake. Another wanted to by a bistro table (which I don't have) and someone else wanted to buy a microwave. Mom called early afternoon and asked how things were going. I was bellyaching about my bruised butt (which was the part that ran into the trailer), my ankle that I had wrapped in an ace bandage that was horribly swollen and how everyone wanted to buy everything, especially my trailer, that wasn't for sale. Mom's response: "I didn't know you was selling your trailer. How much you want for it?"