Post by jagggar on Oct 25, 2006 12:15:37 GMT -5
We've sort of been moving for over the last year. Needless to say, we've got a lot of stuff. Sometimes my mom uses another word which starts with 's' to describe it. . . .
Anyway, we were going to have a garage sale last Saturday, more pf an estate/moving sale. It was more incidental that the garage was to be involved. Vast area of storage space and such. We had a scooter and some old-school bikes in there to sell and, due to lack of floorspace, we had a couple of school desks there. My mom and I are very bad at putting stuff in the van to bring over and then emptying it once we get here, so we had some stuff still out in the garage that we wanted to keep as well as in the rest of the house.
So the Friday before, after dark, some dude shows up wanting to look at our stuff. Red truck, EXTREMELY well trained border collie, McGee, and a ton of cash on him. He wants to see everyting we have. He buys almost everything. Not exactly, but he took the '50s scooter and he took one of the bikes (suprised me that he didn't take the Shwin) and then he came in to look at more stuff. He took one lawyer's bookcase (since we wouldn't sell the other 3 we already had at home), he took the breakfront/buffet, matching table and six matching chairs. which did make me happy because I wanted them to go together. He went up stairs and took a dresser and a chair. I was kinda sad at the chair, because the night before or so, we'd finally cleaned it out and up and I found that it was such a lovely throne. But hey, if he'd take it and the matching love seat, we'd sell it. He even went down to the basement and said he'd take this one piece of furniture that neither my mom or I had even thought to sell. It had swollen shut from the humidity in the basement and we coudln't even see what the bottom drawer had in it.
But that sounds a little much for one guy to get in one trip. And, he didn't get it all in one trip. He called his brother and told him he needed help getting some stuff. He took his first load home and came back with his brother to get a second. It gave my mom enough time to run home and out to Burger King and McDonalds. She prefers Whoppers, but nothing beats McDonalds' french fries unless you're goin' for curly fries (Arby's) or steak fries (sit down restraunts). She got back shortly before he did and I crammed my mouth full of those delicious, greased patato sticks.
Now, when these guys came and wanted to see everything, we didn't know they meant EVERYTHING. They went through random boxes we still had on the floor. Why weren't they away yet if we were planning to have the sale the next day? Well, we were planning an all-nighter. So they're going though everything, including some stuff we hadn't been planning on selling. He even took an old radio we thought was trash for $10.
And it's kinda crazy, it's just stuff after all, but at some point it starts feeling like they're rooting through you lives. As time passed, we were starting to be better and better at not being attached to things.
But it stiil hurt when the guy's brother picked up one of my dad's tool boxes. It was the nice one, but it had a bunch of junk in it. And I wanted to keep it, but here's these two guys throwing money at us. I wanted to say no, taht wasn't for sale, but I just couldn't. Somehow, "Yeah, sure, okay," came out. It was really weird. . . And I feel bad about letting it go. It's one thing to sell someone something you thorught was trash, but it feels so weird realizing you sold something you really didn't mean to sell. And it's weird, because it's just stuff. Stuff doesn't matter, right? If stuff mattered, I'd be getting all materialistic, and materialisim is generally considered a bad thing, isn't it? But I wish I could have that tool box back. Maybe it's that I wouldn't give anything for it that keeps it from being scary-bad materialism. I don't know. I'm just gunna miss that tool box for quite a while. . . .
Anyway, we were going to have a garage sale last Saturday, more pf an estate/moving sale. It was more incidental that the garage was to be involved. Vast area of storage space and such. We had a scooter and some old-school bikes in there to sell and, due to lack of floorspace, we had a couple of school desks there. My mom and I are very bad at putting stuff in the van to bring over and then emptying it once we get here, so we had some stuff still out in the garage that we wanted to keep as well as in the rest of the house.
So the Friday before, after dark, some dude shows up wanting to look at our stuff. Red truck, EXTREMELY well trained border collie, McGee, and a ton of cash on him. He wants to see everyting we have. He buys almost everything. Not exactly, but he took the '50s scooter and he took one of the bikes (suprised me that he didn't take the Shwin) and then he came in to look at more stuff. He took one lawyer's bookcase (since we wouldn't sell the other 3 we already had at home), he took the breakfront/buffet, matching table and six matching chairs. which did make me happy because I wanted them to go together. He went up stairs and took a dresser and a chair. I was kinda sad at the chair, because the night before or so, we'd finally cleaned it out and up and I found that it was such a lovely throne. But hey, if he'd take it and the matching love seat, we'd sell it. He even went down to the basement and said he'd take this one piece of furniture that neither my mom or I had even thought to sell. It had swollen shut from the humidity in the basement and we coudln't even see what the bottom drawer had in it.
But that sounds a little much for one guy to get in one trip. And, he didn't get it all in one trip. He called his brother and told him he needed help getting some stuff. He took his first load home and came back with his brother to get a second. It gave my mom enough time to run home and out to Burger King and McDonalds. She prefers Whoppers, but nothing beats McDonalds' french fries unless you're goin' for curly fries (Arby's) or steak fries (sit down restraunts). She got back shortly before he did and I crammed my mouth full of those delicious, greased patato sticks.
Now, when these guys came and wanted to see everything, we didn't know they meant EVERYTHING. They went through random boxes we still had on the floor. Why weren't they away yet if we were planning to have the sale the next day? Well, we were planning an all-nighter. So they're going though everything, including some stuff we hadn't been planning on selling. He even took an old radio we thought was trash for $10.
And it's kinda crazy, it's just stuff after all, but at some point it starts feeling like they're rooting through you lives. As time passed, we were starting to be better and better at not being attached to things.
But it stiil hurt when the guy's brother picked up one of my dad's tool boxes. It was the nice one, but it had a bunch of junk in it. And I wanted to keep it, but here's these two guys throwing money at us. I wanted to say no, taht wasn't for sale, but I just couldn't. Somehow, "Yeah, sure, okay," came out. It was really weird. . . And I feel bad about letting it go. It's one thing to sell someone something you thorught was trash, but it feels so weird realizing you sold something you really didn't mean to sell. And it's weird, because it's just stuff. Stuff doesn't matter, right? If stuff mattered, I'd be getting all materialistic, and materialisim is generally considered a bad thing, isn't it? But I wish I could have that tool box back. Maybe it's that I wouldn't give anything for it that keeps it from being scary-bad materialism. I don't know. I'm just gunna miss that tool box for quite a while. . . .