Yard Sale Hell

MIL had the great idea to do a yard sale this weekend. It has been in the 90's for a week, and the humidity is through the roof. PERFECT! My ultra pale, burns in minutes skin will LOVE being exposed for two days...

In preparation, she dragged out bags and boxes, or rather, my nephew and SIL dragged out bags and boxes, from the shed. Most had mouse turds or mouse pee, and they reeked. Special! We are putting more time in to cleaning the sh-- I mean treasures up than they are worth. Seriously, she has so many chotchkies it is ridiculous. Oh, for those who have never heard of a chotchkie, Urban Dictionary defines it as the following:
"A small piece of worthless crap, a decorative knick knack with little or no purpose. Side note: Chotchkie can be pretty, sentimental, or even occasionally useful though it usually breaks easily if useful. If you are having trouble identifying Chotchkie just look around your house or someone else's and whatever you see that a burglar wouldn't steal is probably Chotchkie.
Fake fruit, a ceramic frog containing candy, pretty much anything purchased at a dollar store, costume jewelry, etc."

Amen, Urban Dictionary. Amen. Worthless crap indeed. Heck, the mouse turds have more value than some of the sh-- I mean, treasures, she is trying to sell. We spent hours pricing all that crap, and the whole while I am thinking, "Put it all on the front lawn with a giant "FREE" sign and be done with it." Dang, can you tell this is getting on my last nerve?

Don't get me wrong. I do love my MIL. She just comes up with "great ideas" that translate into lots and lots of pointless work. She will sell a few things, I am sure. Like the motorcycle leather coat, pants, and chaps, and the motorcycle intercom system. The rest? She should have just rented a dumpster. I'm just sayin'...

I have a ton of homework to do, and I have been spending more time lugging, washing, labeling, and cussing than I care to admit. On a positive note, my hubby is taking one for the Gipper, as they say. He is going with MIL to Amish Acres tomorrow morning. Acres and acres of vendors, set up in an open field on a hot, humid day. She really wants to go, but Bud knew that I had all this homework to get done, so he is going with her and leaving me home in the peace and quiet. Oh, how I love that man!

If there is a Hell, and I end up there, I will probably be stuck labeling chotchkies...