Painful Memories of That First Time

I remember my first time, I was young and naive. I foolishly thought it would be a fun experience, and I might make a little money to boot. It was an all day ordeal, and at the end of it, I just felt used and wore out. And I was still broke.
A lot of time passed between my first and second time. The first one was so bad that I just didn't think I could ever handle doing it again. But, as time has a way of doing, my bad memories were replaced by the thought of a quick dollar. The second time was even worse than the first. By the time nite fell, I felt completely dejected, and was still broke.
2 years passed since that last time. This time, I got cocky. I told myself that I would make a lot of money and would have a great time. With this third strike, I believe I am finally ready to admit defeat. I will never do it again.
Now I know what you're thinking. 3 times I've done it and I have 3 kids, hmmmm. Get your mind out of the gutter, I'm talking about having a yard sale! Yard sales, they seem so glamorous and romantic to think of. You are going to put out your prized possessions and people will fight each other trying to pay you top dollar for them. That's not how it ever works. At least not for me.
I always spend a week getting prepared; making sure everything is clean and folded and priced to sell. I make bright colorful signs and strategically place them around town. I get up the morning of the sale while it is still dark outside, trying to arrange everything so that it will be pleasing to the eye. Then I sit back and I wait for the customers to arrive in droves. And I wait, and I wait. People slowly trickle in. They are always looking for the one thing I don't have. I had someone ask me today if I have any cassette tapes of gospel music. Are you kidding me?
Finally, by the end of the day, worn and weary, I'm reduced to almost begging people to take my stuff for free just so I don't have to bring it back in the house. I always end every yard sale the same way; cussing myself and swearing to never do it again. Yet I always do, I guess I'm just a glutton for punishment.