No Habla Español

Yesterday I had a very successful yard sale-palooza, but since I don’t speak Spanish, I was challenged by the Hispanic patrons. How exactly do you say, “No I won’t take $1 for this Jones New York cashmere sweater. You have insulted me and my family. Now get off my land?” Despite my ignorance for the young woman’s language, I improvised by shaking my head vigorously and saying, “Not less than two dolareemos.” I’m pretty sure my raised voice and exaggerated mouth gestures helped penetrate the English-speaking portion of her brain. I’m not stupid. I know they all have one.  She then stole a headband.
Later, a Hispanic gentleman took a fancy for a comforter I had for sale. It was marked $10, but he used what little English he knew to ask if I would take $5. “Seven,” I said firmly. He put it down and got back in his van. Not wanting to lug the king size comforter to Goodwill with everything else that didn’t sell, I shouted, “I’ll take cinco!” He got out of his van and paid me cinco.
Despite the occasional language barrier, I managed to score a couple hundred dollars and unload a lot of stuff I no longer needed. More importantly, I earned another grown-up badge for planning and carrying out a successful yard sale. That makes two badges this year when combined with my grown-up badge for finally getting window treatments for my house. At this rate, I’ll have enough badges to be a mature adult by the time I’m forty. 
Adios, amigos.

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