Oct 24, 2006 4 min read

I think my funny bone is broken. Have you ever gotten into the mode of, “What’s going to happen next?’

It seems like everything comes due at once or needs repaired, etc., etc. For example, while the kitchen faucet sprung a couple of leaks and needed replacing, my car required significant repairs to keep it from springing a leak. Then the other car needed new tires. The insurance bills came due all at the same time (something as common as all the planets coming into alignment, which seems to happen once in a bazillion years), and all our prescriptions ran out consecutively.

The drain on the household accounts was significant.

My lovely wife always has a way of coping with such problems. We have a sale.

“Our goal is to raise a million dollars,’ she proudly intones as she begins her search from attic to garage for items to put on the block.

Have we ever gotten $1 million when we have put some of our unused possessions up for sale? Well, if we had, I wouldn’t be writing this column.

But she figures being optimistic is important. And, it’s an example of her sense of humor.

I hate doing it, though. It’s a lot of work for a little return and we aren’t that desperate. But she thinks it’s fun.

So, we recently gathered up a couple of carloads of stuff and rolled out of bed early to go peddle our wares at a local flea market. It was the last one of the season and seemed to draw every vendor in a 100-mile radius. The competition was going to be stiff.

We set up our table, and did our best like merchants of old. We debated putting price stickers on the stuff. I suggested we just let people ask how much things were and we could dicker over the price. My wife was more inclined to price things, offering a starting point for haggling.

Both methods seem to work.

I had taken along a supply of what I call guy stuff – things that men are interested in but not women – which sold within the first 15 minutes of arrival. I also had a few old toy trucks that drew a lot of interest. I managed to sell off a couple for about half what I thought they were worth.

The items my wife was selling were a variety of decorative things: baskets, floral arrangements, some dishes, doodads and geegaws. My mother also sent along a few things she wanted to be rid of. Unfortunately, where I may have gotten dollars for my goodies, my wife was bringing in pennies.

A few times she would walk up to the table while people were browsing and ask me how much something was, like she also was a customer. “Oh, is that all?’ she chirped, thinking it might be an incentive for the browsers to buy. It wasn’t.

When she suggested she take a walk to look at what other people were selling, I agreed. Then I got to work, selling as much of her stuff as I could. Not that I’m some kind of super salesman. I just didn’t want to lug the junk back home.

Everything went into the bargain basement and I slashed prices like Crazy Eddie’s Used Car Lot. When she returned, the inventory was at least a little depleted.

What we couldn’t figure out was why we couldn’t sell a stained-glass window. We were asking $10 for something that would sell in craft stores for $50 or more. One woman offered $5 but we held fast. And we took the window back home.

In the end, when all the money was counted, my items brought in about 90 percent of the receipts and her’s about 10 percent. Not that we were competing. I’m happy we got rid of a lot of things that were just taking up space.

And I might actually stand a chance of getting my car in the garage this winter.

What part of the day did I enjoy most? Counting the money. That helped me get some of my sense of humor back after spending most of a day out in the chill fall air hoping people would give us money for our castoffs.

I have a plan for the next sale. The first one to sell all his or her stuff is done and can go home.

Think my wife will buy that idea? If you do, then I have some leftovers you might be interested in.

Have a good day.

James Pletcher Jr. is business editor of the Herald-Standard. He can be reached at 724-439-7571 or by email at begin Jpletcher@heraldstandard.com Jpletcher@heraldstandard.com end

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