Garage Sales, Mean Pills, and Memories

Well, Mom and I are doing another one tomorrow, a garage sale that is. Every year we vow that this will be our last one, but it never is. It seems like a lot of work hauling all your junk, pricing your memories, and bartering with people over a quarter. I guess it's all very American, but it somehow brings out the worst in me. To see people look through your memories and junk, and decide how much it's worth to them, is more than I can take at times. Especially since my OB/GYN put me on Clomid to ensure I ovulate each month with my only ovary. The Clomid, or as we call it, my "mean pills" sends me right over the edge. It also moves the edge a whole lot closer for me. Hopefully, at the end of the day, we will make a little money, and no enemies. We'll see. . .