Moving, Part Two


Today marks 14 days until our garage sale, and four days since I got sick.  Blech.  Lots to do still!

This is going to be a slightly different sale; every time I’ve had one – and there have been way too many – everyone says I have to “price” things.  I hate doing that, not because I don’t have an idea as to how, but because there is so much STUFF.  Not like we scan in a tag and ring up the customers, you know?

So this time, I’m setting everything out and advertising a “make offer” sale.  No prices, and by probably noon – if we haven’t melted – we’ll convert to a “free” sale.  Okay, not a sale-sale, but you know what I mean.  After all, the point is to get rid of this mountain of stuff, not really make any money.

Here’s what I don’t understand – people who actually make money having a garage sale.  The best I ever did after oh, about 20 sales over the years, give or take a few, was $200.  I know people who ALWAYS make that much, or more.  Usually, after ads and permits, and I come in around $50.  Tops.

This time, I’m telling myself that I don’t care – I just want it gone.  In fact, I’m arranging for someone – anyone – to come pick up the leftovers on Monday.  So there.  Gone, gone, gone.

The storage unit is filing up fast – we have probably another load to take this weekend; unfortunately, the garage is filling up too, but most of that will be used up, sold, given away, or taken with us.  Did I mention I have a lot of books?  I could probably open a used bookstore, but I don’t want to get rid of any of them!  Of course, when we move in, if something doesn’t fit, it doesn’t fit – we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

I have sold a few things, via Craigslist, and am portioning some others out to friends and family.  And we tackled my son’s room over the last few days.  Wow.

The only things left in his closet are his laundry basket, a few pairs of shoes, and hanging clothes.  Somehow, the “bag up all the clothes and shoes that do not fit [or have holes]” doesn’t translate well into kid-ese.  Of course, since kids (and grown men) tend to “look” for something in a room by standing in the middle and gazing blankly at eye level for 30 seconds, this may be perfectly understandable.

Anyway, half his room his spotless; the other half, well, some of the things in the clean half seem to have migrated there, but several boxes were packed or put in the sale pile out in the garage.  Whew.

The third bedroom has a bed.  Really.  And an empty laundry basket which, come to think of it, I could stuff with extra pillows and blankets.  I knew something would go in there, may as well take care of that right now, before I forget….

Okay, where was I?  Oh yeah – half my office is packed, but it occurred to me that the coat closet and bar cabinets could possibly be declared disaster areas.  In fact, the coat closet can barely be opened, I think because a towering stack of…something…fell off the shelf at some point.  Not sure I want to know.

Obviously, there’s a solution to the bar problem – drink up!  Seriously, with all this cold medicine in me?  Let’s just say that packing could then move very slowly, or very quickly, depending!  Come to think of it, it’s not all alcohol in there – I think there might be a box or two that we haven’t touched in three years.  Maybe I should just throw them out, without even looking?

Coming up will be closets and dressers.  And taking stuff off the walls, which of course is accompanied by filling nail holes and touch-up painting.  Ugh.  Call the men in the little white jackets, please, I’ll probably need their help.

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