Huge Savings on Longaberger Baskets

The blogosphere is a lonely place.

It's like sitting in a room and talking to a vent in the ceiling. You know people are there. You can hear them walking by. Occasionally they even stop and shout something about what you've said. But for the most part you're alone in a room talking to a vent.

That reads a lot more bleak than I intended. I'm just a little blog-weary. I won't use the excuse that we've been busy. Everyone is busy. Maybe I could blame the season. Blue skies and warmer temperatures make me feel guilty about spending time down here in the basement.

Speaking of warmer temperatures, I mowed the lawn for the first time yesterday. The grass was not only wet from a recent rain but it is healthy. It's full of bright green chlorophyll that leaked out all over the place and stained everything it touched. The moisture, combined with the fact I lowered the mower deck to a scalping height, meant the Bad Ass Grass Master had a rough time. It sputtered, burned some oil and tried to give up often. I'd push down on the handle and raise the deck a little to give the little Toro who could a chance to breathe. Then I'd plunge the mower back into the grass and watch it choke on the big clumps of wet grass all over again. It wasn't lawn care. It was sadism.

I'm also planning our first garage sale. I'm hauling crap out of the basement and depositing it in the garage. I've displaced the Mazda for however long it takes me to get everything in one place, price it, put an ad in the paper an make some signs. I'm guessing the car will be in the driveway for months.

What am I selling? Baskets. We've got a shitload of baskets; decorative, picnic, Easter, gift, storage. . . we've got 'em all. Throw in, among other things, a couple of old vacuum cleaners, an infant swing, an old serial port scanner, a TV that refuses to show channels two through six and you've got the sale of the century!

If our take on this venture is anything less than $2,000 I won't consider it a success.

The truth is I'm not looking forward to haggling. I should just take whatever I'm offered and feel lucky to get rid of my excess. I doubt that'll happen. I'll probably fold my arms across my chest, shoot the bargain hunters stern looks and slowly twist my head no every time they offer less.

"Will you take $2?"

"Fuck-off lady. Read me what that piece of masking tape says."

"Four dollars."

"That's right, dumbass. It says four dollars and you're not leaving this driveway with that basket until you show me some fiscal respect. That shit's Longaberger. Are you fucking insane or simply as stupid as you seem?"

Maybe Debbie should handle the sales.