People collecting
Yesterday a few people came to my yard sale before, during and after the torrential rains.
As a writer I collect types. Memorable one’s from the yard sale:
The 30s built like a moving block counterfeiter who wanted to change a $100 bill for real money who feigned interest in various items and asked if I had any art for sale. Nothing particular. Then I asked him if he was interested in erotic art (I do have two pieces for sale). He asked, “What’s that?” OK, I’m in southern California; no ignorance surprises me after years of living here. When I didn’t have enough change for his purchases, he carefully, if not almost tenderly, stacked the small items behind the tablecloth on one table and told me he would be back. He did not return.
In a light rain a sprightly fellow with an Eastern European accent greeted me cheerfully and checked out various items. He decided to purchase bicycle lights (front and rear) and told me that if you rode without lights at night, “The cops will stop you,” in an ironic tone implying a certain irritating small mindedness to cops in the United States and blowing my preconceived notions of Estonians not having a sense of humor.
The third was noticeable not because she was unusual but because she was so true to type. She covered her slender body in beige (taupe is too high-tone). Her ankles were possibly as thick as her thighs. I briefly considered the woes of kidney failure. I felt she wasn’t going to buy anything, but having my previous preconceptions knocked down by the cheerful Estonian, I held off…until she said, “I don’t know how much money I have with me. I may have to go visit my friend who lives nearby.” Red flag. And sure enough, she fingered a number of items, rearranged various items of clothing, and then said she would be back as though I would believe her.
