How do you all feel about garage sales?
I for one see them as an opportunity to purge once-loved (or never used) items to deal-hunting hagglers. My husband tends to disagree. He’s all about making some cash and would rather see us keep that used-one-time pasta maker than sell it to Sharon down the street for $3.
This weekend our neighborhood is holding a garage sale event and we’ve decided to participate. Since we’re in the process of packing and moving, we have a box brimming with goods that I’ve pledged to purge no matter the price. Why on Earth do we have a dozen etched-glass martini glasses? The last time I had 12 people at my house was after my daughter was born, and nearly half of them were wearing diapers – myself included.
I digress.
I personally feel awkward sitting outside surrounded by my old stuff while strangers – or even worse, people we KNOW! – dig around to find whatever random items they think their own homes might be missing. And then to ask them to PAY for my old stuff? I just feel weird about it. But, I’ve heard from plenty of people who make serious cash at these things, and we’re not really in a place to be saying no to any kind of moolah. So, garage sale it is.
Story time:
Luckily for me, I’ll get to sit out most of the stuff-sitting because I burned my husband years ago when we were moving back to Vermont had to pack-up our first-ever shared home. Along came the neighborhood Garage Sale Weekend, and I saw it as a great time to get rid of the things that shouldn’t make the trip to our new place. The townhouse we lived in – and still own as a rental unit – was once home to Matt and a few of his friends. By the time I moved in with him the home was like a time capsule of bachelorhood. I have never seen a more random collection of decor, furniture, and kitchenware in my life.
So, the day of the garage sale came and Matt had to work, leaving me to peddle our possessions for eager passersby. We had an array of items – random framed posters of constellations from his space-savvy friend, a hodge-podge of left-behind dishes and bowls, random artwork and sculptures from spontaneous TJ Maxx trips, you get the idea.
Anyway, as the day went on, I was making some real progress toward our goal, which I thought was to purge all of the things. Two prints for $2. Four plates for four quarters. Buy one get two free. I was running all kinds of deals. Our stop on the garage sale route was popular. I was running out of things to sell! I had to keep the masses happy, and my conversion rates were through the (garage) roof. So, I would run into the house and grab anything I could find – a painting here, a chair there, all of the fake plants, and did we realllllly need that old Ikea couch that our friend had sat in and broken twice?
By the time Matt got home from work, our house was bare. I sold our living room set for $25 to a college-bound kid. I sold his $500 bike with a flat tire for $10. I sold his old Burton snowboard for $10. I sold every piece of art from the walls for under $20. I purged that place.
Matt was pissed.
All these years later he STILL talks about my failed Garage Sale showing. All these years later, I’m still relieved that those antique portraits of random strangers aren’t hanging in my house somewhere.
Mission accomplished.
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