I don't know if it is a chemical found somewhere in the recesses of the female brain, or simply a symptom of cabin fever, but just as quickly as the first few days of spring hit the garage sale signs begin to appear. It's almost as if they spring right up out of the ground as a result of the spring showers.
These garage sales I mention are a great love for my wife. I on the other hand loath them. I shouldn't. My wife is the queen of the garage sale and can sniff out a bargain from many blocks away. She gets that look in her eye and God help me if I'm in the car, for surely I will be her hostage until she has satisfied her addiction to the beast.
It isn't that I don't see the value of the garage sale. I can see their purpose, and the value associated. I just don't care for digging through the debris to find the possible treasure at the bottom.