jail (by Laura)

Readers, here is the county jail. A sale I attended was directly across the street.


As you can see, the jail officials are very strict.

Here is the most extensive collection of old spice containers I have personally ever seen.

Readers, I was alone again this weekend as both Nancy and Samantha are vacatationing. The sales were plentiful in number, but puny in offerings, as evidenced by this drive-by shot of a particularly pitiful sale:

I am taking this through the car window because, readers, I am a coward. There weren't many salers out this weekend, so at many sales I was the sole peruser. This makes it difficult to surrepitiously snap incriminating photos of a 30 year collection of Playboy. The proprieters are keen on their observation of you, when you are the only hopeful buyer. This next sale was in someone's basement, which immediately set off warning bells in my head, but in I went anyway. It was a dark, dank basement where M. Night Shyamalan should spend some time, thereby getting the idea for his next thriller. Once again, it would have been painfully obvious had a taken a picture of the few offerings...that darn flash would have given me away.

I inadvertently stumbled upon this gold mine of a sale. Pseudonyms will be used for the proprieters, as these friendly folk did not wish to be identified. "Roy" is a contractor, and for the past 12 years has been storing the items he rips out of homes and businesses into the warehouse you see here.

Roy and his friend "Ralph" have rooms upon rooms filled with building supplies. Need a toilet? Roy and Ralph have aplenty.

Need some cabinets? Again, take your pick.

The only item I purchased was a twenty five cent Where's Waldo book for my boys, who promptly informed me we already owned that one. You could say it was a dud.