Treasure Hunt

My neighbors are having a yard sale. Started yesterday, and I'm assuming the parade of treasure-seekers will flow in and out of the hood through Sunday. The barrage of vehicles is driving my Al nuts-- who believes this is his neighborhood and has alerted me to every single tresspasser thus far. Needless to say, it's challenging to get into a writing groove-- but I'm a pro. lol

I've never understood the fascination for some concerning yard sales. Sure, I'm a bargain shopper. You've seen some of my finds on previous posts. But seriously-- I. Don't. Want. Other. People's. Shit.

Did you get that? No matter how you try to spin it-- You are buying someone else's shit. To add to your shit. And before you know it, you're gonna have a yard sale to resell the shit you bought from the yard sale you went to. You aren't gonna find a "treasure." A "pot of gold." A rare "gem." Those stories are few and far between. It's shit. Pure and simple. It's clothes and furniture someone else farted in, pissed in, threw up in, scratched their gnads with, wiped their dog's ass with, broke, f*cked on......

And by the by, don't park in front of my mail box. If the postman can't deliver my mail because you're looking to buy useless shit, I'm gonna get medieval on your ass. Thanks.

xoxo,
RiRi