Nonfiction | March 01, 1992
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For two weeks Vicki weeded the attic and raked closets, stuffing toys into boxes in the front hall and building a compost of clothes in the basement. Then for four days she washed and folded. Finally, though, fall and tag sale arrived. On October 5, I got up early and lined one side of the driveway with bookshelves. On them Vicki stacked clothes: children’s shirts and sweaters priced fifty and seventy-five cents apiece and trousers from fifty cents to two dollars. Down the other side of the driveway were the furnishings of two rooms: lamps, chairs, tables, even two playpens. Against the garage door were toys: a one-cent box, a five, a ten, and finally a twenty-five-cent box.
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