Apparently my time isn't worth much

Apparently time isn't money.

As I mentioned previously, I was part of a multi-family yard sale this weekend. I wasn't able to help the group on Friday, but joined in the money making today. I regretfully got myself out of bed bright and early this morning, made myself presentable and prepared to peddle junk (and I mean junk.)

For over 6 hours, I bartered and bargained. I assisted shopper after shopper in a manor that would make any commission-based retail store manager proud. I folded, I located appropriate sizes, I put together outfits. I pushed a doll made out of a plastic jackolantern, an ugly brown afghan and even a one-owner chandelier.

I also managed to spend part of my earnings before they even made it to my pocket. I bartered for several much needed and valuable items. (Translation: more stuff I don't need to replace the stuff I just got rid of.) I piled a set of vintage 1970s needlework books into my trunk vintage, a small cooler, puzzle, and small tin perfect for stitchmarkers. (All so very worthy and necessary for our daily happiness and survival.)

It always amazes me what people choose to purchase from your yard sale and what they leave behind. It's true, completely true, that one man's trash is another man's treasure.

After boxing what was left, I came home tired, hungry and sunburned with a total of. . . $15.25 in my pocket. In my best estimation, I averaged approximately $2.50 per hour not including pricing and hauling time. All in a day's work I assume. I guess my time truly isn't that valuable.

Cynical has been wanting to work a puzzle. Fearing that his attention span couldn't justify purchasing a puzzle, I bartered for one at the yard sale. We worked on it for a few minutes before he ventured to the living room leaving me to attempt to complete the frame for this Venetian scene. The photo above was taken while he was still enthused with digging out side pieces.

Izzie, our night watchman, decided to guard her mother's work, positioning herself in the middle of the frame, daring another cat to approach the pieces.