We can put up with the used clothing piled on both sides of a driveway. We can understand the mothball smell coming from a couch that’s for sale. Heck, we can even forgive the screaming children poorly placated by whatever kid’s show their frazzled mother distracts them with while she sells her goods. But we can’t forgive the timing. Why do garage sales always start at the buttcrack of dawn? That’s why we... More >>>