Why Am I So Tired Today?

Oh, right: that's why.

There's nothing like spending four hours arguing with people who want to buy your old pig-shaped resin candleholder for 10 cents instead of 25.




Actually, I had very few of those: mostly I had the people who immediately wanted me to knock 60% off the price of my $15 digital camera and the big-ticket item, a $225 recumbent bike.  And, to my everlasting shame, I must admit that they wore me down enough that I gave each of those underserving people a fantastic deal ($10 for the camera WITH a wooden dolphin figurine for $2 instead of $6; $230 for the recumbent bike AND a nice little bike Bee had rescued from the garbage but wanted $50 for).  I kind of feel icky about it, but I suppose it was karmically better to just give them a good deal than to tell them to go f*ck themselves.

Don't think I wasn't tempted, though.

We ended up having 5 neighbors do the block sale, and I think it was pretty successful.  I couldn't see how most of the neighbors were doing, but I know I was busy form 7:30 a.m. until well after 2.  Thankfully, Dee and two other friends came from 8 to noon and helped sell their own things and mine, PLUS they helped watch Mr. C AND they brought donuts.  Now that's the measure of a true friend.

By the time I'd sort-of cleaned up from the yard sale, I was so tired that I pretty much just stared at the wall for the rest of the evening.

Yesterday, as you know, was Mother's Day (Happy Mother's Day, Mom!!!).  Guess how I celebrated.

Why, by getting up at 6:30, driving across town, unloading canopies, crates and tables from the pick-up truck, and running a booth at a Sunday farmer's market, of course!

And I know some of you must be thinking that this was a terrible way to spend Mother's Day . . . but you'd be wrong!  It was so friction' nice to sit quietly in a booth and drink some tea and talk to the other vendors and to customers without my child tugging at me or my husband telling me how I was setting things up incorrectly.

Although, in all honestly, the glory faded after about two hours when I'd only sold three things.  Sigh.  I used to think that Bee's product sold itself; now I know it's really Bee that sells it.

Bee and Mr. C did come down to help me pack up at the end of the market.  Which means I did, after all, get just a teeny bit of an earful about how I was setting things up wrong and I did, after all, have to deal with Mr. C tugging at me.  Of course, it wasn't too bad, and Mr. C was kind of cute: when he heard people wishing each other a happy mother's day, he informed me, "It's not mother's day; it's mine day."  And when I reminded him that every single other day of the year was his day, he stubbornly continued, "It's not mother's day.  It's mine day.  Your day is in July.  July seventeen."

I'm going to hold him to that.

Between the yard sale and the miserable market, I was so dead by yesterday afternoon that I took a two-hour nap.  Then Bee took us all out to dinner.  Oh, and he gave me money to get some B&J Creme Brûlée for dessert.

Now that's what I call a good Mother's Day.