Saturday morning, Lindsey and I went garage saleing (or is it sailing)? We hit 5 houses (maybe 6). I think I will continue to put a parentheses at the end of every sentence (it's kind of like an echo, without the repetition). (Okay, I will stop. This is annoying).
At House #2 while browsing through a cardboard box of dusty books, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was the hand of the owner of my favorite Chick-fil-A. It was HIS house! Those were HIS books! He knew who I was! But here is the kicker - the mean old lady who paints the faces on the kids and refused to give me a free milkshake is his mother. She was wearing a bandana on her head which was unnecessary because it was a cold morning and I almost asked for a discount on the 50 cent book I bought but I refrained because I knew she wouldn't give it to me anyways.
The owner of House #3 was a very old man who works at Bath & Body Works. I always thought he picked an odd store to work at too. The interesting part was that none of the furniture he had for sale looked like the type of furniture belonging to a B&B employee.
But House #5 was the real winner. Hidden at the end of a single-lane dirt road in the middle of the woods (we only passed two other houses) was a house advertising its garage sale with poster boards strapped to a mini-van lettered with "IT'S HERE" and arrows pointing. I haven't been scared garage-saleing, and this time I was nervous. There were 3 people in the garage. One lady was walking around with gigantic metal butterfly wings strapped to her back. She sat down on a couch for sale and no one talked to us or made eye contact with us and that's when I realized I needed to leave. I actually had goose bumps. So Lindsey and I escaped in the car, driving past the signs alerting us to beware of a guard dog, branches hitting the car all along the bumpy road. As we turned off the street, we looked up at the street sign: Shangri-La Lane.