"Just wait for the Fair!"
For weeks that's what they've ben saying on the local weather forecast. According to local folklore, the week of the Fair is the pivot point for the weather, the point where we transition from the triple digit summer heat to the cooler, clammier Fall temps.
Honestly, I don't remember anyone saying anything about that last year, and the year before we had just moved here and I was still too shell-shocked to notice. But damn if it hasn't turned out to be true. The Fair ends tomorrow and we're a good 25 degrees cooler than when it started.
This weekend is also our neighborhood garage sale and there's a craptacular gang-bang of useless junk everywhere you look. And the traffic that goes with it. These people love their garage sales. For a split second we considered joining in. Lord knows we still have a garage full of discarded trash to unload, even after two moves. But ultimately it just seemed like too much work and yet another step towards normalizing our existence here, and I don't think anyone wants to see that happen.
I took the dogs out for their morning walk around 7am and it was already going full force. It would appear the "must have" item this year is used tires because I saw at least four houses with towering stacks of them. One would think used tires are used for a reason. If you wouldn't put them on your own car, why would I buy them and put them on mine? Maybe that's too logical.
I'm convinced most of this crap doesn't even leave the neighborhood. The wives leave the husbands in charge of their own sale, as they trawl the neighborhood looking at everyone else's. Maybe they pick things up and bring them home and mark them up to make a quick buck. But more than likely, they just fill up the garage shelves they just emptied.
To everything, there is a season, turn, turn, turn. That goes for junk as well.
