I’m afraid it’s just a fact my friends, we all get the “monkey on the back” thing at one time or another.
It doesn’t matter if we make every attempt to keep our “ass” out of trouble and live the good life. We are all more than capable of developing an itch that only that stinkin monkey can scratch.
I’m gonna come clean right now and admit my monkey this summer has been frequenting every low down, flea bitten (and monkeys can carry fleas you know) yard sale this side of the Pacific. I’m officially an old lady, yard sale junkie!
It started off as fun. I was just trying to find my treasure in somebody else’s trash. I wanted to give new life to old crap. It was my mission and I thought an innocent one, until recently that is.
But a couple of weeks ago I noticed beads of sweat upon my brow whilst planning the route for my yard sale madness.
I’ve been a little cranky on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays when there’s nobody’s curb I get to pull up to.
My husband is starting to question, “how much money did you spend” when I return with a trunk load just scored.
My children and grandchildren have come to know, grandma ain’t available Thursday, Friday or Saturday before noon and not until she’s got her “junk on”.
I really have almost caused an accident while happening upon a sale, not mapped out on my treasure hunt.
Also I’ve noticed I barely stop the car anymore before racing up to a honey whole of loot. I can feel my eyes start to widen on the approach. My heart races and I feel just like a shark that tastes blood in the water. Dear Lord, I’ve become a bloodthirsty yard sale-er and I need help.
I’ve heard many a time that the first part of the cure is admitting to the problem. With that in mind today I admit “I have a yard sale monkey on my back and I’m telling him to get off my ass.”
At least long enough for me to map out my route for next week, make room in the car for more goodies and convince my spouse I’m the worlds best price negotiator and saving us money in the long run.