My brother and his wife have decided that they're going to open a bed and breakfast somewhere in the jungles of southeast Asia. Well and spiffy, and they decided to ask me to help them host an estate sale. No stranger to the retail game, I thought I could do this and haggle effectively enough to get them at least a bit of change for their global-collection-life purchases. But as the weekend looms close, I am getting a bit nervous.
You see, the original witch I'd asked to help me in the matter fell off my broom and twisted her ankle so hard that she's going to be doing a keen verision of a tri-pod for the next eight weeks.
Yeah, that's right. You read it correctly. The witch fell off my broom.
And I meant that in the most literal sense of the phrase.
The blue witch was helping me sand and mud the walls in the shop (which are looking fabulous, by the way, because of all the painting I've been doing). We took a much-needed break, and to celebrate, she grabbed my broom, whooped and hollered and ran out the front door....tripping on the driveway in such a way as to get a bad effin' sprain on an ankle.
The crappy part is that she lives on the second story of an apartment, and short of instantaneous teleportation, I'll probably not get her help this weekend. (I mean, she's a wonderful person and when she helps, it's whole-heartedly...not like some jackasses who will say, "Sure, I'll help..." and instead think it's more important to go out on a date instead of helping your dear friends move a house full of furniture...but I digress...that's me being catty...) So....kind of at a loss as to what exactly I'm going to do.
But there's going to be stuff for sale, which is always good. It just breaks my heart to see all the bric-a-brac from all these other countries being scattered to the winds.
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