For the past few years, there’s been a running narrative with the Yard Sale Ladies wherein they accuse me of driving too fast. They are very subtle about it, but I still catch on.
Me: Was that a Yard Sale sign?
Them: We can’t read at warp speed.
Never mind that I’m driving my mom’s Dodge Ram HEMI that shoots down the highway with the slightest pressure on the gas pedal. It’s my fault that we don’t find more yard sales! They can’t SEE the signs much less READ the signs. Or so I’d been led to believe. Then yesterday we had the following conversation.
Me: Do you guys see JD? He said he’d be in the Kroger parking lot.
Them: Isn’t that him right there?
Them: Walking down that row of cars!”
Me: I still don’t see him. Right, left?
Them: That guy right IN FRONT OF YOU.
Me: Uh, ladies. That man is black.
Them. Oh. Well, we were just looking at the bald head.
I need a younger group of yard sale buddies.