#29 Stop Selling Our Stuff, Mom!
My mother had a habit of doing a garage sale at least once a year, and invariably sold many things that she thought were cluttering up our rooms or the garage. We felt wronged so many times because that special shirt or stuffed animal or other prized item had disappeared, never to return. The sense of loss was almost unbearable for me as a child.
Our complaints fell on deaf ears, as mother would just defer with, “Oh I had no idea you wanted that,” and go on about her business. One winter, as we were assembling our gear for the first ski trip of the year, my mother couldn’t find her ski boots anywhere. I said, “Maybe you sold them at the garage sale, har har,” to which she responded, “Oh, no honey, those were your boots I sold.”
Cue the pregnant pause as we all held our breath and stared at her, knowing that her boots were the same color and a very similar design to mine. And then the delicious satisfaction of watching her realize she’d done to herself what we’d been going through all those years.
Credit: tallavery