Whew...the garage sale is over!

When 5 p.m. came yesterday, we were three pooped garage salers.  Several times over the weekend, I asked myself why we were subjecting ourselves to such a grueling ordeal, but the final money tally answered that question nicely.

I wish someone had filmed us trying to count the money.  We were all so tired that we couldn't think straight, and I bet we each counted the sizeable stack of bills half a dozen times before we finally came up with the same total twice.  It became such a Three Stooges routine that we had to laugh...but not too much, because we didn't have the energy.

This sale was supposed to close the books on our venture as mid-century sellers, but talking to the dealers who came to buy the last of our inventory reminded us how exciting the search for merchandise is, so now my son-in-law wants us to find retail space of our own and get back into the business in a big way...and the crazy thing is that I'm tempted.

Lovin' the bulging bank bag...
but don't ask me to do this again anytime soon.