Another saturday, another saturday of yardsaleing. What do you need? A baby monitor? A nine iron? A sport coat? A sword? A sombrero? A helmet? An exquisite oil painting. No, you probably don't "need " anything, but without a meat grinder, making sausage is almost impossible.
This will be my second week looking for a pitching wedge and a new nine iron. Two weekends ago I passed on a nice, whole set of irons and a golf bag for twenty bucks. I wasn't sure I was going back to golfing in earnest because my arm was so sore from going golfing that morning. The ground was hard and my swing was, let's say, "inaccurate".
This brings us to that sorry state called yard sale regret. Why didn't I buy that trombone? Not one week later a buddy tells me he's taking it up. A trombone, sixty bucks. I offer forty and ask him to throw in a pair of binoculars. I was so greedy. I was so stupid. Oh, woe is me! Why didn't I just give him the sixty bucks?
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