July 23, 2003
Mom and I did a craft sale this weekend. Since we had to be there early in the morning, we had to load the car the night before. Two portable bookcases filled the trunk of my Lumina. Six card tables and a card table-sized pegboard pretty much took care of the back seat. Then we had to start loading our merchandise. Afghans were tucked into the shelves on the bookcases. Four boxes of books, a small bin, and a roll of rag rugs filled the floor of the back seat. The rest of the assorted bins and boxes had to be fit like puzzle pieces between the seat backs and the card tables. Yes, I made it all fit, but not without some bruises to show for it.
The next morning we woke up to clouds and a thunderstorm watch. We arrived at the site of the craft sale before 7 a.m. and barely finished setting up by 9 a.m. when the sale officially started. By then the clouds had gone over, and the wind came up, and we spent the day chasing after dishcloths and baby quilts and even rugs. We spent the day getting wind-whipped and sunburned. Many people stopped to admire our crafts, but very few people bought anything.
Five o’clock rolled around, and we had to pack it all back up, always the depressing part of a sale, a reminder of all the things that didn’t sell that we have to haul back home. The car was almost as full as when we started, and but we were so exhausted it was even harder to load. And then we had to unload it again when we got home.
They told us the August sale is much better.
They told us there will be many vendors and hundreds and hundreds of potential
customers. Of course I plan to go—I can’t wait! Addiction is such a sad