Garbage Sale

My youth group is having a huge garage sale at church this weekend, and though I will be conveniently out of town through the duration of the actual event, I did stick around Wednesday night to help set up. And I’ve gotta say—it’s pretty surprising what people are willing to donate to a church garage sale. For example: I would forfeit all the money from my twenty-two hours at work next week to know who brought in the slinky black strapless…thing. Or the gigantic pair of rubber pants, into each leg of which we figured two small children could reasonably be stuffed. Or the box of off-white undershirts with stains under the arms. Of course, though, it was the lingerie that intrigued me the most. Did you know lingerie is see-through? What is the point of it, when it’s obviously going to come off anyway and it doesn’t cover anything to begin with? And who is going to go to a garage sale to look for it, let alone one held at a church? I immediately began a lingerie display, pairing the flimsy pieces with seductive winter hats and golf gloves and hanging them up in the most prominent of places. (Did I mention I would forfeit two week’s salary to see the previous owners’ faces when they see my lovely display?) But there was so much of it, and I soon ran out of hats. That’s when it occurred to me to relocate the lesser members of my collection to an old refrigerator that was also for sale. A refrigerator, after all, isn’t so different from a dresser, and a big sign saying something gross like “cool eats, hot treats” could make for a not uninteresting display. And if the people still weren’t going for it, well, a refrigerator and a lifetime’s worth of very cold-looking pajamas would make a pretty sweet package deal.