I am starting graduate school in five weeks. Instead of taking Shakespeare, I'm opting for Literary Pedagogy with a focus on teaching Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. The great part about the summer, for community college employees, is we have Fridays off and this time will of course mean, for me, study and hunt time.
However, the highlight of planning my summertime is getting back to selling at the flea market. Gera has already started and I can't wait to sell under the sun (under our tent no doubt).
The real secret is to get back out there to watch 'my stuff'. I mean, now, I price it all and he does his best to get the most for it, but in all honesty, I get an even better price for it. We gripe at each other because I treat my stuff like it's gold and my table always looks pretty, very feminine, like a space right out of an antique store, while his side is just...there. It's definitely a guy side: lawnmowers, tools, boots, weed eaters, basket ball hoops, more yard stuff, VHS movies, radios, wooden tables (we usually pick these up from the rich houses, their trash--our profit, especially after Gera sands and refinishes them), clay pots, and other non-cute items. I just look at him and "My stuff's hot!"
I mean look at these beauties...but he only thinks of my table as having it's place, but not redflag revenue important. I admit, he usually rakes in more dough than I do. We put it all together in the end though and I remind him that without my knick-knacks, our profit would fall ever short.
This past weekend, he did manage to sell one of my favorite pieces: a boxed 1980s Elvis Presley, unopened decanter with real liquor, seal unbroken. I told him, "Honey, DO NOT sell this for less than $50.00." He actually got $55 for it! He's learning, but I still need to manage and oversee the preciousness of my merchandise. A summer ain't a summer without the hustle of selling. I'm so ready!!
Cream colored pomeranian puppy girl
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