Sunday, October 03, 2004

Yesterday was my building's annual Street Fair. We cleaned out our closets and rented a space. There's something very humbling about baring your castoffs to the scrutiny of others. All of a sudden that sweater that didn't quite fit right looks like a baggy rag from where it got all stretched out cause you still tried to wear it cause it was on sale and you couldn't pass it up, and you think to yourself," I can't believe I have the nerve to try to sell this!" But then someone buys it, and your mind races, taking an inventory of your wardrobe, indeed the entire contents of your home, searching for more potential sales.

I live in a very old building, and many of the tenants have been there 30+ years. A nice but quite talkative older lady was chatting with me about the state of a sweater of mine; she pointed out that there was a small smudge of something (makeup?) near the neckline (oh, the shame! how dare I ask three dollars!). She walked away without it, not that it would have fit her anyway.

Then there was the guy who set up next to me in what was really not a space, but there was a car parked (that should've been towed) blocking half of the guys spot on the other side), so he just kind of squeezed in. He was very sleazy and had a lot of junk, like a bottle of Coppertone suntan lotion from 1972, and lots of grimy kids' toys. His big draw was these two chairs that looked like they were ready to collapse that he wanted $100 each for. He kept encroaching on my space, inching over the line with his crappy stuff, blocking my stall. At one point he came over and put an ugly wooden laundry hamper under my table! Wtf? When I moved it over to his space, he seemed angry and said, "well, whatever." Right.

Tyler came out every once in a while and relieved me so I could relieve myself (and frantically ransack our apartment for more stuff to sell), and he is just not the street fair type. I spied on him out the window, looking like a deer in headlights every time someone approached and asked a question about something. He did, however, sell one of our "big ticket" items, a bench that I have been trying to unload since I bought it! Yay!

I met lots of neighbors, people I would probably never had contact with otherwise, and made quite a wad of cash! The talkative old lady came back later in the day to show me a sweater she bought (no smudges!) for three dollars. As she walked away, she said, "see ya later, alligator!" It was a really pretty sweater for three dollars.

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