I jingled the quarters in my pocket and surveyed the progress of our Sunday garage sale. We had sold a lot of stuff, most of which was our neighbor's, not ours. Tim and Marisa were moving their three young kids to Colorado in a few weeks and I had offered our garage sale if "they had a few things to get rid of". We sat alone with our junk this morning for two hours, until Tim stopped by with two wagons piled high, assuring us our luck would change. "Just wait, guys, you'll be flooded with people soon enough," he laughed, "Hey, John, mind if I borrow your truck to get the last our stuff?" WHAT??? Oh yeah, it really was an entire truckload of silk flower swags and baby contraptions and Tim didn't hang around to see it sell. John and I spent the next 8 hours peddling crap, most of which was not ours, to a trickle of passersby. $63.75. That's what we had to show for our day after we handed Tim his fifty bucks. We didn't collect commission, and Tim didn't offer to pay us for spending our day selling his junk while he washed his cars and took the family to lunch. We loaded the garage sale remains (and Tim's) into John's truck for Goodwill. Shelby surveyed the heap of junk and exclaimed, "Holy Crap!" John and I exchanged glances, and then looked down at our three year old. "What?" she says, innocently shrugging her shoulders, "I just said holy crap. It's okay. I didn't say holy shit."