It's a four year cycle, apparently.
Four years ago, after having lived here about four years, we had a huge garage sale, made some cash, emptied out our basement, and then brought about 30 percent of it back into the basement. Next weekend, we'll put that crap back out...plus more!
A lot has happened in four years. Our formerly 6-month-old is now 4 1/2. Last time, we were selling an extra infant swing and we let her do a live-action demo while our shoppers browsed. I amused myself by sticking a tiny "Not for Sale" sticker to her head. Last time, we sold things from our pre-parental years. CDs, ironic toys (the "Albino Bowler" action figure, for example), thrift shop furniture from our college apartment, and my small inventory of "hey, I'm going to start a business on Ebay" funky vintage wares.
Now, four years later, we're selling toys, unnecessary kitchen appliances, and various baby apparatus(es?). Now the child is aware that we are selling her things, and each item requires a little sales pitch about her average frequency of use and the probable profit that could be put toward newer better Big Girl Toys! Now, we are faced with a pile of terribly mundane and no longer useful items, reminding us that for the past four years, we have pretty much just been parents.
Looking back on your life from the perspective of all the garbage you want to get rid of is not the only awkward part about this ritual. Another one is when your neighbors parade through and examine your discarded household items. To them, your life up to this point is already viewed through the tiny sliver of what happens outside of your house. They know what time you leave and return from work, how frequently your barbecue, that you don't go to church or fertilize your lawn. And now added to this list is the fact that you read Danielle Steele and you actually ordered the "Magic Bullet."
And when it gets really good is when your relatives show up to find all the gifts they've given to you for the past...oh...say, four years. It happened last time, so I'm going in with an arsenal of explanations at the ready. How does this one sound? "Yeah, unfortunately I decided I had to sell the motion-detecting dancing poinsettia. That thing is so gosh-darn funny! Right after Christmas this year, there was about a week when I started missing work because I just couldn't stop walking by it, giggling and singing along with "Rockin' around the Christmas Tree" every time. I almost lost my job! I love it so much, but it really must go."
Then there's the pricing issue. Each time I must decide on a price, there is an little war between my inner cynic and optimist that goes something like this:
Who the hell do you think you are, asking two dollars for that DVD? Those are B-list actors! No one's even heard of that film.
But it is an independent movie...and it's got a Sundance endorsement. This is a college town. Maybe I could get three.
If you ask three dollars people will think you're out of your mind and they'll walk out of here in protest without buying a thing.
I mark it a dollar and move on. Then there are questions such as: Should you even offer up your child's used potty seat for sale? Should it be free, or is that worse? How much do you ask for your mother-in-law's jewelry box that your father-in-law gave to her but that she gave to you because they're now divorced? And where do you stash it if she comes to the sale?
You see, before you actually commit, a garage sale always sounds like a great idea. What could be better? You open up your garage, put some shit out, people come and hand you cash, and haul your shit away. You get to meet new and interesting folks, drink some lemonade, and chat with the neighbors...
But once the signs are made and the newspaper ad has been placed and you've told all of your friends, reality sets in. You have to organize this thing. You have to clean out the garage, face spiders and mouse turds, and quite possibly the mice themselves. You have to set up some sort of configuration to display your junk. You must clean much of this junk, because c'mon--you don't want people thinking you have scummy junk.
So, as I find myself in the midst of this ordeal once again, I can only hope that all these useless items I am digging out and shining up find new homes and new uses. I mean, when you think about it, a garage sale is the ultimate act of recycling. Yeah, this is actually way bigger than rinsing out some cans and setting them out on the curb. This sacrifice I'm making, it's for the good of the planet, dammit. It's so that these items don't end up in a landfill, so that someone who can't afford them new can enjoy them now. I can do a little manual labor and a little soul searching in the name of saving the earth. And if I end up with a little extra cash in my pocket at the end of the day, that's irrelevant. A mere side effect of this act of selflessness.
I do think I could get three bucks for that DVD though.
Then there's the pricing issue. Each time I must decide on a price, there is an little war between my inner cynic and optimist that goes something like this:
Who the hell do you think you are, asking two dollars for that DVD? Those are B-list actors! No one's even heard of that film.
But it is an independent movie...and it's got a Sundance endorsement. This is a college town. Maybe I could get three.
If you ask three dollars people will think you're out of your mind and they'll walk out of here in protest without buying a thing.
I mark it a dollar and move on. Then there are questions such as: Should you even offer up your child's used potty seat for sale? Should it be free, or is that worse? How much do you ask for your mother-in-law's jewelry box that your father-in-law gave to her but that she gave to you because they're now divorced? And where do you stash it if she comes to the sale?
You see, before you actually commit, a garage sale always sounds like a great idea. What could be better? You open up your garage, put some shit out, people come and hand you cash, and haul your shit away. You get to meet new and interesting folks, drink some lemonade, and chat with the neighbors...
But once the signs are made and the newspaper ad has been placed and you've told all of your friends, reality sets in. You have to organize this thing. You have to clean out the garage, face spiders and mouse turds, and quite possibly the mice themselves. You have to set up some sort of configuration to display your junk. You must clean much of this junk, because c'mon--you don't want people thinking you have scummy junk.
So, as I find myself in the midst of this ordeal once again, I can only hope that all these useless items I am digging out and shining up find new homes and new uses. I mean, when you think about it, a garage sale is the ultimate act of recycling. Yeah, this is actually way bigger than rinsing out some cans and setting them out on the curb. This sacrifice I'm making, it's for the good of the planet, dammit. It's so that these items don't end up in a landfill, so that someone who can't afford them new can enjoy them now. I can do a little manual labor and a little soul searching in the name of saving the earth. And if I end up with a little extra cash in my pocket at the end of the day, that's irrelevant. A mere side effect of this act of selflessness.
I do think I could get three bucks for that DVD though.
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