Taking a quick break in our packing to point out a less than amusing side of this whole moving thing: Sales.
I hate selling things. We sold Texas Manor Fruitcakes through grade school to support our class fund. Why anyone thought mummified cake and neon, vat-dyed fruit was a good item for raising funds for children, I don’t know, but that is what we did. (DISCLAIMER: I know that some fruitcakes are good. THESE were NOT.) I am dreadful at selling things — even my own things. What is anything really worth? How bad should I feel if you don’t look like you really need to be buying anything? These are the types of things that go through my mind.
Sunday we spent at the flea market — or the ‘car boot sale,’ if you’re playing along elsewhere (And frankly, a ‘car boot’ sale makes more sense. I mean, fleas. Eh??)
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