SALE ALONG WITH ME
A Widow Bit – July 24, 2011
By Mary Koch

            There’s nothing like a yard sale to get you in touch with your inner stuff. Ostensibly, you’re getting rid of outer stuff. But in the attempt to clear out the dark recesses and dusty corners of your home, you run smack into the cubbyholes of your soul and cobwebs of your memory.

            During the process of preparing for Saturday’s yard sale, I experienced a full spectrum of emotions, from dismay (Why do I let stuff pile up like this?) to disgust (Why did I spend all that money on this thing that I never use?), from self-deception (I’d better keep this; I might need it someday, or worse, I’ll get down to that size again) to self-derision (Why did I buy another one of these when I already have five? Answer: because I couldn’t find the first five that were buried under all that stuff “I might need some day”).

            I can think of only two motivations for having a yard sale and neither is pretty: guilt or avarice. Guilt because you have perfectly good, usable stuff that you don’t use and you know someone else could. Avarice because you’re tired of this stuff and you want cold hard cash so you can buy more stuff. I definitely don’t want more stuff, so guilt was my prime motivator.

            I would happily donate my stuff to a local thrift shop or the church rummage sale. But the thrift shops are overwhelmed and getting picky about what and how much they’ll accept, and no one at my church volunteered to organize a rummage sale this year. Including me.

            Along with various closets and cupboards, I promised myself I’d clean out the two “hell holes” in my house. Both are basement rooms, one originally a fruit cellar and the other a so-called garden room where tools and equipment are stored. I can go many weeks, even months, without opening the door to either room except to occasionally toss something more into them. I screwed up my courage to fend off black widow spiders and mouse droppings, and waded into hell.

            By Saturday, with the help of friends, stuff was brushed off, shined up and spread out on my patio. People moseyed in, bought some, and I think sneered some. My prices were very low and by the end of the day, I was begging people to take stuff for free.

            “But I don’t drink martinis!” a young woman protested as I pressed four almost-matching, stemmed glasses upon her.

            “Fruit smoothies would look beautiful in them,” I argued. The young have no imagination.

            By the end of the sale, only two-thirds of the stuff was gone. I’m hoping the senior citizen thrift shop will accept some of the remainder. Sadly, the landfill will get some. And, I confess I have broken the yard seller’s First Commandment: Never put anything back into the house. Alas, some of the stuff is back, including the martini glasses. For fruit smoothies. Oh, yes.