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| flea market |
| 07.17.06 (3:22 pm) [edit] |
|
So, I came home Friday afternoon. Apparently 2:00 is the absolute wrongest time to do that since I hit traffic at every possible place and then some.
My dad wanted to go to the flea market oh-so-bad for some reason; going to the flea market is an indertaking that if done well, everything is sorted through a week in advance, packed that night, and left bright and early that morning... It was like that but totally not. To anyone who knows my dad, this should come as no surprise. He decided he would take the day off Friday and get everything sorted and loaded. He started sorting at 4:30 that afternoon. Then he left at 6:00 to go to a barbeque at the neighbors which he didn't come back from till nearly eleven, swearing that he would get up at 5:00 the next day and sort through everything then, go. I didn't believe he would actually do it, let alone with any semblance of organization. He managed to get quasi-organized but we didn't leave until past 8:00 missing out on a significant chunk of selling time. Meanwhile, the night before, my brother was having a conniption fit because I stupidly mentioned the possibility of not going to the flea market (seeing as how they were at a party and virtually nothing had been done). Yet when we got there he was whinier, and lazier about the possibility of having to exert himself in any form. and I think I'll write more about ensuing events and the so-called, "icing on the cake" later... |
| 0 Comments |
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